by Anna Bell
She smooths down her dress before patting at her hair.
‘Mrs H, are you OK?’
‘Fine,’ she says through deep breaths. ‘Never been better.’
She doesn’t look fine.
‘It’s just, what if I don’t win? How will I ever show my face at work again?’
‘Mrs Harris, it doesn’t matter, does it? You’ve done so well to get this far. Out of the whole company.’
‘Oh, Izzy. Don’t be so naive. Of course it’s about winning.’
For a minute I thought I was seeing a more vulnerable side of Mrs Harris.
‘It’s too late now,’ I say, changing tack. ‘You’ve done your final Bake Off and you can’t change it. But look at you, you look fabulous. Just hold your head up high whatever happens.’
She gulps.
‘You’re right. Come on,’ she says, looping her arm through mine.
We find our way to our table with Colin and Cleo and some others from our department and the Master of Ceremonies takes to the stage.
‘And now, what you’ve all been waiting for,’ says the MC. ‘Please put your hands together for Paul Hollywood and Mary Berry.’
There are excited whispers round the room as everyone assumes there’s been a great reunion, until we see a man and a woman walking across the stage with photo masks on their faces. There’s a ripple of laughter as people realise it’s our CEO and HR Director.
‘Right,’ says Roland, the CEO doing his best impression of the baking judge. ‘We’re here to find out the winner of the Great Office Bake Off. Would the two final contestants join us on stage.’
I give Mrs Harris a quick hug before she totters up to the stage throwing dagger eyes at Miles.
‘The winner of the Great Office Bake Off is…’ says Mary, the director of HR.
I can see Mrs Harris holding her breath and I hope they put her out of her misery soon as I’m worried she’s going to pass out.
‘Petunia!’
It takes us a second to realise that they mean Mrs Harris, as we’ve never heard her first name before, and after a moment of stunned silence, our whole table stands on its feet and starts whooping and cheering.
The CEO hands over the trophy and Mrs Harris is so grateful that she almost kisses his face off, luckily for him he’s still got his mask on.
Trophy in hand she staggers up to the microphone, her hands clasped to her mouth in surprise.
‘I can’t believe it; I can’t believe I won. First, I’d like to say commiserations to my competition, you’ve been exceptional,’ she says, turning to Miles. ‘And then I’d like to thank my team in Contracts.’
We cheer so loud that anyone would think we’d won personally.
‘I’ve always known I was exceptionally talented and it’s been so lovely to finally be recognised for it, so thank you.’
She holds the trophy high over her head and I don’t miss the little sneer she gives her rival Miles.
‘Well, that competition certainly provided us with some highlights this year,’ says the HR Director. ‘Here, as they say on TV, are the best bits.’
A montage of photos showing the rounds of the competition is being shown on a big screen, and I feel all nostalgic. I can’t help thinking what Luke said, that this could be my last work do and I can’t help thinking how much I’d miss all my work colleagues. They may be bonkers, but I really do love them.
Chapter 28
I used to love waking up on Christmas morning. I was always first out of bed. I’d sneak along to Ben’s room and we’d mount an assault on our parents’ bedroom, getting them out of bed well before dawn. Even when he lived with Becca ten minutes down the road, he’d still stay over on Christmas Eve so that we could carry on the tradition.
Now I wake up and it’s light already. There’s no excited scramble down to the presents. No one to argue with over the TV remote or who’s eaten the last green triangle out of the Quality Street tin. Instead I lie in bed and post the pre-approved photos of Luke and me on Instagram.
I immediately get pings of notifications and once upon a time I’d have thought how sad it is that people are scrolling on their phone and commenting on Christmas morning, but now I’m grateful for the distraction.
I can hear Mum banging around in the kitchen and I know how hard today is for her too, so I get out of bed and slip on my dressing gown and head downstairs.
I walk into the kitchen and I’m struck by the amazing smell of cinnamon.
‘Morning,’ says Mum, opening the oven and pulling out cinnamon buns.
‘Morning, this smells amazing. Sorry I slept so late; I should have come and helped.’
‘Don’t be silly. You know I like to cook to keep busy. Let me ice these and then you can have one.’
‘They look amazing.’
‘Yeah, I thought I’d try something new. Especially with Aidan coming.’
There’s a smile on her face that’s been missing for so long and I’m so glad that he said that he’d come to ours. It’s not only my day he’s going to brighten, but my parents’ too.
‘You know he’s not coming until after lunch?’
‘I know, I know. But I wasn’t too sure what he’d like. So I’ve also baked gingerbread men, mince pies and a swiss roll.’
‘Mum,’ I say, laughing.
I know that she would have baked that much anyway, trying to take her mind off Ben, but I’m glad for once she’s got a different reason to do it.
‘Morning, love,’ says my dad, strolling in with a bottle of champagne. ‘Merry Christmas.’
‘Oh, gosh, yes, Merry Christmas. When are we doing presents?’ I say.
In the years since Ben died, we haven’t really found our rhythm as a family of three. Where once we’d have opened them at the crack of dawn, the last couple of years we’ve put it off as it feels so wrong.
‘Well, with Becca not coming over, there’s no need to wait. I’ve only got Aidan a little present and I’m sure he wouldn’t want to sit through us all opening things.’
‘OK,’ I say, getting up to my feet and taking the bottle of champagne out of Dad’s hand. ‘How about a glass of bubbles and we’ll go through to the lounge.’
‘Sounds good to me,’ says Dad.
We get everything ready and take it all through to the lounge where we put the big tray of buns and the flutes of champagne on the coffee table.
Mum puts her Michael Bublé Christmas album on and we look at the pile of presents under the tree. It still doesn’t feel right. I realise that I don’t just miss Ben but Becca too. She’s been such a part of our Christmas for years.
I watch Mum look over at the mantelpiece at the photo of us all together taken a few years ago during happier times. Despite the brave face we’re putting on, I wonder if we’re ever going to make our festive get togethers feel anything but sad.
I look over to the clock wishing that 3 p.m. and Aidan’s arrival would come round quickly.
I try and move my belly but it’s like a lead weight. I seem to have excelled myself with Christmas lunch, eating at least double my body weight. Mum overcompensated for the awkwardness of the day by making every side dish imaginable, and not wanting to appear rude, I sampled them all.
My phone’s lit up on the coffee table and despite it only being a metre away, it takes me ages to lean forward and scoop it up. I collapse back on the sofa, exhausted from the effort.
Marissa has sent me a photo of Leah dressed up like a Christmas pudding. That baby is so adorable. I had no idea that I was going to be so smitten with her. Marissa’s doing well – or as well as you can do when you’ve hardly slept in weeks. One minute she’s crying happy tears and the next she’s crying in frustration that motherhood is not as easy as it looks on Instagram.
Me:
My goddaughter is so cute xxxx
Despite there being no talk of an official christening, I’ve christened myself godmother as Marissa did suggest I was going to be when she found she was having a girl �
�� that’s pretty binding in my book.
Marissa:
Short-lived cuteness. She was like this for approx 30 seconds before she sicked milk all down it. Now I understand why people dress their babies in so many outfits – it’s not just because they’re showing off, it’s because they’re always pooping and sicking all over them. FML. PS. Merry Christmas – has Aidan popped over yet?
Me:
Hang on in there. People say it goes quick, she’ll be 18 before you know it ;) And Merry Christmas to you all too – and no he hasn’t come over yet, I’m a bit nervous!!!!
Marissa:
You’ll be fine. Gotta run, her ladyship is wailing for food x
The doorbell goes and I forget the stone in my belly and I leap up.
‘I’ll get it,’ I shout. My heart is pounding. I haven’t introduced a man to my parents since Cameron and I forgot how utterly terrifying it is. I wish the worst I could fear would be my mum digging out naked baby photos or ones with awful fringes and teenage braces, but Mum always goes one better and digs out the home movies where I used to present my own TV shows. They’re all-singing, all-dancing monstrosities; I imagine this is her revenge for having to endure them live.
Mum and Dad hover in the doorway of the lounge trying to keep out of the way, whilst I open the door and I’m shocked to see Becca standing there.
‘Merry Christmas,’ she says, holding up her hands which are laden with bags of presents.
I don’t move for a second as I can’t quite believe it. A huge smile spreads over my face.
‘Merry Christmas,’ I say, leaning into a hug. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘It’s tradition, I always come round,’ she says, shrugging her shoulders as she pulls away. ‘I was at Mum’s and it didn’t feel right. I needed to be here.’
I can feel tears prickle at my eyes.
‘Becca,’ says my mum, coming up the hallway. She hugs her and I notice that she’s got tears in her eyes too. ‘Are you staying for tea? I think we were going to play a game first and eat after.’
‘Mum, more food?’ I say, wondering how she could possibly think about eating after the massive lunch we just had. ‘Aidan will have eaten too.’
‘Oh, it’s just some cold meats and some vol-au-vents before the cakes.’
‘It’s not Christmas in the Brown household without vol-auvents,’ says Becca, laughing. ‘I’m sure I could eat a few.’
Dad gives her a hug too.
‘I’ll dig out the Baileys,’ he says with a wink.
‘I’m driving, Simon, but I’d love one of your special hot chocolates,’ she calls to him.
‘Righto. Izzy?’
‘Baileys, please.’
Becca needn’t have brought presents; I haven’t seen my parents smile like this all day. I watch my mum fussing around and whisking her into the lounge.
I go to close the door and I hear a cough and I open it wider only to be jumped on by Barney.
‘Hey, beautiful,’ I say, bending down and he leaps up at me and licks my nose.
‘Hey, that was my line,’ says Aidan, leaning over and giving me a kiss and I stand upright.
‘You need to be quicker,’ I say. ‘Come on in, it’s freezing.’
I don’t need to say anything to Barney as he’s raced through already. The squeals from the lounge make me think that’s he’s found everyone. I hear a great thwack and Aidan closes his eyes.
‘It’s fine, it’s fine,’ I say, grabbing his hands and pulling him in.
‘Is your mum still going to like me when he breaks an antique carriage clock?’
‘Ha ha, she’ll probably be thrilled, the only things like that she has were inherited from my grandma on my dad’s side.’
He lets me drag him up the hallway and into the lounge.
Barney’s lying on his back, legs akimbo, whilst Becca and Mum are rubbing his belly. His mouth is slightly open and from this angle he looks like he’s smiling.
‘I see you’ve met Barney.’
‘We certainly have,’ says Mum in a baby-talk voice. ‘Oh, Aidan,’ she says, standing upright. ‘I’m Dawn.’
‘Nice to meet you, I’m sorry if Barney broke something,’ he says, surveying the room for damage.
‘No, no, he just knocked over an old picture frame. He’s fine. He’s gorgeous. We’re so happy you brought him. Oh, and that you came too.’
‘I’m starting to get a complex. First Izzy, now you.’
‘He’s such a charmer,’ says Becca, standing up to greet him.
‘Aidan, this is Becca. She just popped in.’
‘Ah, nice to meet you. Another person to play Monopoly,’ says Aidan.
Mum and Becca splutter.
‘Oh Aidan, you don’t want to play Monopoly with Izzy,’ says Mum.
He looks at me and I roll my eyes.
‘I haven’t cheated for years, OK?’
‘What?’ says Aidan, pulling a face. ‘I could cope with you being ultra-competitive or perhaps a sore loser, but a cheater?’
‘Once a cheater, always a cheater,’ says Becca, before her eyes pop out of her head and she realises what she’s implied and I shoot her a quick look. ‘I mean, in board games, obviously.’
‘I’ll have you know, it’s been at least twelve years since I cheated, in a board game.’ I know I’m not actually cheating with Luke but I still turn purple with embarrassment.
‘Um, really?’ says Becca. ‘What about the time we played Trivial Pursuit? That wasn’t that long ago.’
‘I was not cheating. I put the cards at the wrong end of the box. It was an innocent mistake. Honestly, Aidan, I’m fine to play Monopoly. I won’t be the banker.’
‘Hmm, I don’t know,’ says Aidan, laughing.
My dad comes in carrying a tray of drinks.
‘Oh, hello,’ he says, about to put the tray down on the coffee table and Aidan scoops it up.
‘Barney’s tail, nothing’s safe.’
‘Right,’ he says, immediately bending over and giving him a rub behind the ear. I take the tray and pop it on the dining table at the end of the lounge.
‘I’m Simon, by the way,’ says Dad, standing up.
‘Sorry, Dad, this is Aidan, Aidan this is my dad, Simon.’
‘Nice to meet you.’
‘And you,’ Dad says, before he bends down to Barney once more. ‘And you too. You’re a lively one, aren’t you?’
Barney is lapping up all the attention.
‘Oh, I um, brought you both this,’ Aidan says. ‘It’s a spiced sourdough loaf.’
He hands it to my mum and she stares at him and then beams back.
‘Thank you, Aidan.’
‘Did you make it?’ I don’t mean to furrow my brow but I’m surprised.
‘Yeah, I have this thing about sourdough. I made a starter a few months ago and I’m kind of obsessed with feeding it. I thought it would be nice to bring something homemade.’
‘It was really thoughtful. So Simon, we were just trying to decide whether to play Monopoly with Izzy or not,’ says Mum.
Dad pulls a face. ‘Wasn’t it a lifetime ban?’
‘Don’t I get parole? I’m a reformed character.’
‘That’s what they all say,’ says Aidan.
‘Hey,’ I say, playfully hitting him. ‘You’re supposed to be on my side.’
‘Um, I thought you chose Barney.’
‘Well…’
‘How about we play Cluedo,’ says Mum. ‘I think it’s still got all the bits.’
We all shrug. At least I can’t get accused of cheating in Cluedo.
‘OK, so I think it’s Professor Plum, in the conservatory…’ I pause longer than Dermot on The X Factor to create the dramatic tension, ‘with the rope.’
I look around and wait for someone to show me one of the cards and no one does. I do a victory air punch before reaching over the wrinkly black envelope that contains the cards.
‘Professor Plum, in the conservatory,’ I say, peel
ing one card over at a time, ‘with the rope,’ I say, only for everyone to gasp.
‘Um, lead piping,’ corrects Becca, pointing at the card I’ve turned over.
‘But no one has the rope,’ I say, confused. ‘I asked and no one showed me it.’
Everyone checks their cards again.
‘Oh, perhaps it didn’t have all the cards after all.’
‘Mum, you checked!’
‘Maybe I didn’t count them right. Don’t blame me, the menopause does all sorts of things to your memory.’
‘Mum, you’ve been using that excuse for years.’
‘One day you’ll use it too,’ she says. ‘Anyone want to play again? This time we can all tick off the rope.’
‘Um, perhaps we could play something else,’ I say.
‘Perhaps,’ says Dad. ‘What time are we having tea?’
I stare at him. I think I consumed enough calories at lunch to see me through a winter hibernation – how can he be hungry?
‘Oh, yes, we’ve got loads. Shall I do a platter? Aidan, I’m sure you could eat, yes?’
‘Um, something small. I had a pretty big lunch.’
‘My mum doesn’t know the meaning of the word small,’ I say, watching her leave. ‘Perhaps I should go and keep her under control.’
I’m walking out of the room when I spot a card on the floor.
‘Look what I’ve found.’ I hold up the offending rope card, it must have fallen out of the box.
‘Dawn, look at this,’ shouts Dad.
Mum comes in and I hold up the card.
‘Where was that?’
‘I found it on the floor.’
‘That’s funny, I didn’t see it when I went out. Hmm, are you sure you didn’t have it on you?’
‘You weren’t cheating again?’ says Dad with a stern stare.
‘Um, why on earth would I have it on me? I was the one that lost the game because the cards didn’t match. Surely I’d have slipped it into the envelope if I was?’
‘Oh, so you would, love.’
‘I’m fed up of this, let’s play Monopoly. I want to put this whole cheating thing to bed once and for all.’
I roll up my sleeves hoping that way no one will accuse me of hiding anything up there.