by Annie Dyer
Marie: What do you mean – grand old age? We’re not over the hill yet.
Callum: Did you buy Dad a supply of little blue pills as an early Christmas present?
Maxwell: Aren’t you in Marrakesh, Cal? And that is another image I don’t need.
Jackson: Bleach my brain, again.
Callum: They do have internet in Marrakesh, surprisingly. Our flight has been put back by a few hours and we’re going to stop at Wren’s mum’s first, so we’ll be there late Christmas day.
Marie: Can’t you bring your flight forward?
Callum: No can do. We’d have to fly today and we still haven’t finished inoculating. It’s been a bigger project than we thought. Now, back to the blue pills.
Marie: Your father doesn’t need any blue pills. *sniggers*
Ava: Mum, stop trying to be trendy with your messages. Claire, what size clothes does Eliza take now?
Marie: Are you still shopping for presents, Ava Marie? You’re cutting it fine!
Callum: Even my presents are bought and wrapped. Tut tit.
Callum: I meant tut tut. Not tit.
Ava: Wren did say you were obsessed with tits. And your presents are only bought and wrapped because Wren did it before you went away. Speaking of last-minute present buying, has anyone heard from Seph and Payton? They were shopping.
Maxwell: I tried phoning Seph but it was just going straight through to voicemail.
Claire: He’s probably opening his advent calendar. Only it won’t contain chocolates or a nice picture…
Claire: It’ll be of the female variety instead. Different one for each day.
I ran my fingers through my hair and closed my eyes. Typical conclusion jumping.
Claire: Eliza will be fine in aged two to three, Aves. Thank you.
Seph: Actually, I’ve been getting my phone fixed. Has anyone heard from Payton? She stormed off when I told her she looked like Mum.
Marie: And why would she storm off at that. What’s happened to your phone?
Maxwell: He probably dropped in it his coffee.
Seph: Actually, a kid ran into me when I was checking the messages from you lot and then stood on it when I dropped it. It’s not been a good day. Has anyone heard from Payton?
Claire: She rang me a few minutes ago. I believe you’re present-less.
Seph: I’m just going to buy bleach for you all. And maybe some counselling sessions.
Marie: Why didn’t you do joint presents with Shay?
Seph: I tried. But he’s done something with his sisters so they’ve all chipped in. I have got the kids presents though.
Shay was our cousin, one of Marie’s many nephews and nieces. He’d just moved over to England from America after living there for three years. Lainey, his sister, had been here for a few months already, and the other three Green daughters were in the process of joining them, all for various reasons, none of which I’d paid too much attention to.
Seph: I’ll get something sorted. I have another day yet.
Maxwell: Don’t buy us all a cheese selection again. Please. That was lame.
Claire: You’re just saying that because it gave you nightmares and you woke up screaming Jackson’s name.
Maxwell: Only time anyone’s screamed Jackson’s name.
Marie: Don’t be mean else I’ll tell you about how I scream your father’s name.
Maxwell: I’ve heard you do that, M. When he’s left the toilet seat up. Plenty of times.
Marie: You know, one day, I’m going to show your dad how to use this and he can see what heathens he produced.
Seph: Pretty sure you had something to do with that. I don’t think Dad can take all the blame.
Marie: Hmmmm. We’ll see how heathen you are Seph with the quality of your Christmas presents.
I grumbled and locked my phone. It was seven in the evening and I needed to head back to the shops, maybe find where my sister had escaped to, or find her kidnapper and pay them to keep her a bit longer.
2
A first edition of Naughty Amelia Jane by Enid Blyton – from Owen to Payton
Seph
“’Inkle, inkle, ickkle ‘tar…”
I loved my niece. I truly did. When I babysat so Claire and Killian could pretend they were adult humans again I would stand there and stare at her while she was sleeping, wondering how the hell something so perfect could be produced by a woman who could be so very, very evil.
“’Inkle, ‘inkle, ickkle ‘tar…” This time there was a giggle at the end.
“Does she know the rest of it?” It seemed that my genius niece was only confident with the first line. I put this down to poor parenting from my sister and when I was out of her reach, I’d happily tell her so.
And sleep with my eyes open.
“Hmmm, she did last week. The week before it was ‘’inkle, ‘inkle, ickkle twat’ which didn’t go down too well at playgroup.” Killian glanced in the rear-view mirror as he spoke, probably checking that Claire was still asleep. “Three guesses where she learned that word from.”
I laughed. That was one for later. Definitely one to tell Mum and watch the fireworks after.
“If you ask her about it, she’ll tell you it was from me.”
“It’s okay. We know her well. What’ve you got her for Christmas?” I was hoping that if I could find out what Killian had bought her; I’d get some ideas. If Killian was in a talkative mood, he might tell me what he’d bought the others too.
“A weekend away before the baby’s born. This spa in Tintagel where they do pregnancy massage. She doesn’t know about it.” He was shaking his head dramatically, meaning that Claire did know about it because she’d been sneaking around, being nosy.
Standard.
“What’ve you got Max?”
He chuckled. “You know, Seph, it doesn’t matter what we got Max. You need to get him something uniquely from you.”
I groaned, the first line of twinkle twinkle now replaced by something about sharks.
Definitely Claire’s daughter.
“I have no idea. I’m crap at buying presents.”
I genuinely liked my brother-in-law. I suspected he was definitely insane, having both married my sister and tied himself to her for the rest of his life by having children with her, but he was a decent guy. Possibly more so than Jackson and definitely less of a dick-wad than Maxwell.
“Vouchers. Get each couple a restaurant voucher.”
I shrugged. “I do that for birthdays, so it’s a bit of a cop out.”
“True.” Killian shrugged. “To be honest, it’s usually your sister who sorts these things out. Before we were together I didn’t bother buying presents apart from Nick’s twins.”
“That isn’t helpful.” I shook my head. “If I don’t at least buy my sisters something my balls will be toast by lunch on Christmas Day and served with the stuffing. I can already hear Payton going on about it.” The words were already imprinted on my brain and she had even said them yet – not since last year anyway.
“So just get the girls something. Buy your brothers, me, Owen and Eli a bottle of scotch. Decent stuff, not the crap Callum gets.” He winced. “All that does is give you a hangover with none of the pleasure.”
“What was that about pleasure?” Claire’s voice sounded sleepy.
That, however, wasn’t proof she’d actually been asleep.
“Callum’s choice of whisky. Isn’t pleasurable.” Killian indicated to turn off the main road onto the narrow country lane that led to my parents.
There was a yawn, a loud one. “Your spawn is making me tired.”
“I’m pretty sure it’s your spawn as much as mine. But anyway, when we get to your folks, go to bed. I’ll see to Eliza.”
And that was why Killian was perfect for my sister: laid back, easy going, didn’t bother to argue back unless it was something he was absolutely sold on.
“Sounds good. She’s looking sleepy now anyway. Which means she’ll probably wake up about five.”
There was a sigh from Claire. “Maybe her favourite Uncle Seph could set his alarm and entertain her while his best sister has a lie-in?”
I thought for a second. “Would you consider that your Christmas present?”
The steam coming from my sister was enough to cook the Christmas pudding. I took it as a hard no.
I needed another plan.
Marie Callaghan, nee Green, was nothing if not fierce. She had to be, managing my father and taking on four step-children, then having three of her own. No one could say she ruled the roost quietly or with carefully chosen words. She was patient to a point and could be tactful when she chose. Which was only for about the first five minutes of any conversation that wasn’t work related.
Marie had been as good a lawyer as our father, probably better. She’d practiced in England after Ava was born, going back to work for a decade before announcing she’d had enough and wanted to become a ‘lady who lunched’, to which our father had mentioned something about her having to become a lady first. He’d just about escaped with his balls.
She was now standing outside the over-sized family home with folded arms and a faux fur coat over her shoulders wearing a glare that would be classified as a lethal weapon in some countries.
“Where’s Ava?” My mother’s all-seeing eyes caroused the car.
“She’s in the boot.” Claire gave a grin, leaving me to entangle Eliza from her car seat. She was fast asleep and pretty much a dead weight, the lisped words of a nursery rhyme giving way to soft snores.
Mum made some form of muttering noise that none of us bothered to try and interpret and reached over to take Eliza. There were more mutterings, but these were softer, cooing over her granddaughter.
“I’ll take her tonight. Give you and Killian a chance for a night off.” Marie inspected Claire. “You look exhausted.”
“That’s one word for it. Heavily pregnant and being mum to a toddler are not the best combination.” Claire rubbed her stomach that looked huge, although I had the sense not to tell her that.
“I had twins the same age as Eliza – which included Seph and Payton – and was pregnant with Ava, so I know exactly how you feel.” Marie glared at me. “And Seph and Payton were little shits.”
“We were influenced by our elder sister.” I didn’t need to look at Claire to know she was glaring at me.
“I was wonderful with you two. Used to babysit and everything. Changed your nappies, cleaned up your sick, bathed you…” She dug me in the shoulder with a manicured fingernail. Heaven forbid Claire ever skipped a nail appointment.
“Was it Seph or Payton you dropped on the head when you were taking them out of the bath?” Marie looked up from a still sleeping Eliza.
I rubbed my head automatically. I did have an odd sized small lump on it.
“Payton. She was trying to hit Seph while I was holding her, and she wriggled out.” Claire lifted a very small bag which Killian proceeded to whip straight out of her hand.
“Why do I have a bump on my head?” I took hold of a suitcase before my sister could even dream of trying to lift it.
Claire shrugged. “Who knows, Seph? Who knows.”
My father was cooking.
This shouldn’t be a shock. He wasn’t a fifties’ husband who thought that his wife’s place was in the kitchen, and on many occasions, he’d volunteered to help out with a meal. He was, however, completely and utterly useless at making anything edible from scratch to the extent if he tried to compose something in the kitchen, none of us would sample it.
“Dad, you’re cooking…”. Claire’s voice contained a large element of both horror and fear.
“I’m stirring cookie mixture. Even I can’t go wrong with that.” He raised one eyebrow and shook his head. “And Maven made the mixture.”
I snapped my head round, expecting Maven to materialise in the room. “I didn’t think she was getting here until tomorrow?”
Marie picked up a glass of wine, Eliza now sleeping on the large sectional sofa. It was an open plan kitchen with a vast family area and Marie’s favourite room in the house. “She arrived three days ago but asked us to keep it quiet. She’s exhausted, poor thing, and jet-lagged. She’s staying in your old room, Seph.”
I was eyeballed hard enough to realise I wasn’t allowed to dispute this. “Where am I staying?”
There was a sigh and my mother bit her lips together. “We’ve had the cabin done up. It has a small shower room in it and it’s heated, so you won’t freeze…”
“It’s a bit small, Mum.” It really was. Designed for a couple of kids to camp in without the bother of having a tent. Dad and his brother had built it one summer and we’d added bits to it over the years, although there was a separate bedroom area and a small sitting bit.
“I know. We’re going to have an extension put on the house next year, but this Christmas, with so many of you staying, it’s a bit of a squash. Maven would’ve taken it, but now she’s staying longer.” Mum shrugged.
“I thought she was staying through New Year and then heading back to New York?” Claire unpacked a bag of stuff that I assumed was for Eliza, unless Killian had developed a thing for rusks.
Marie sat down, putting her feet up on the coffee table. If I’d have done that, she’d have toasted me on the fire.
“She’s moved over early. Her belongings are being shipped and we’re going to help her find a house.” Marie smiled round at us. “We’re going to have a good Christmas. All of you together for the first time in years.”
“Since Ava was about ten, I think.” Claire finally sat down. “And next year there will be more of us. At least one.”
“Hopefully two. Or more. You never know, Seph might actually bring home a girl he’s serious about!”
There was a cackle of laughter from my mother and sister.
“Yeah, thanks. If this carries on, I might find out what Cassie’s now up to.” I folded my arms and watched the fear accrue in both their eyes.
Cassie was my ex, my on again, off again childhood sweetheart, only it hadn’t been very sweet. Nearly three years ago we’d broken up for good and I hadn’t functioned very well for a couple of months. We’d met on our first day at university, lived in the same halls of residence, house shared in our third and second year, and although we’d never lived together, we’d never really spent much time apart, unless we were arguing or on a break.
The breaks had happened quite a lot. Then I found out that she’d been with someone else – two someone elses – while we weren’t on a break, so I’d ended it. Or she had. I couldn’t remember, mainly because there had been a lot of alcohol around in those weeks and then a lot of sleeping around straight after.
It wasn’t something I was proud of. Or wanted to repeat.
“If you bring that girl anywhere near me, I will remove her hair from her scalp.” Claire sounded more like she was promising a new cuddly toy to Eliza.
My mother just stared at me.
“I think it’s best you meet someone else.” The voice from the kitchen startled us all. “And how long am I meant to mix this dough for?”
3
Tour of a gin distillery – from Claire to Marie
Payton
Sneaking home during the middle of the night was something I’d once been incredibly stealthy at. Those times did not include two suitcases, three bags of Christmas gifts and a six feet four fiancé who did not understand the phrase ‘be quiet’.
The choice had been to leave London late once Owen was satisfied that all of his book shops were ready for the last few days of Christmas shopping tomorrow or to hang on until the morning and potentially get stuck in holiday traffic. The former had seemed like the brightest idea, especially as neither of us liked getting out of bed early – not any more anyway.
“It’s a big house. Your mum won’t hear us.” He almost kept his voice low. Almost.
“Marie has extra sensory powers. Even when I thought I’d snuck in through my window, she still knew th
e exact time I got in. And she hasn’t seen us for three months, so I’m surprised she’s not camped out here waiting.” I looked around the entrance hall, my dad’s wellington boots discarded carelessly near the door. He’d taken up hen keeping of all things, and I knew from Mum that he liked to do a late-night check. What he didn’t do was put the boots away after. She thought he did it on purpose.
“It’s been three months?”
“It has. We’ve been busy.” I placed my bags down on the floor and found myself wrapped in Owen’s arms. He smelled of cologne and comfort, and a hell of a lot of want.
“Time to slow things down now. I think we should extend our stay here for another week or two. Or take a holiday somewhere warm.” His hands had slipped down to my bottom and the kiss to the top of my head told me he wasn’t that tired.
“That sounds good. I can push a couple of my files to Seph to run if I need to.” I pulled his T-shirt out of his jeans and ran my hand over his abs.
I didn’t think I’d ever get tired of Owen Anders. Before him, relationships and me hadn’t been a success story; I’d pretty much sworn off being involved with anyone, but he’d sneaked in there, being my friend first.
“It must be Christmas,” his hands travelled up to my waist, “if I can get you to agree to take time off that easily.”
I tucked the tip of a finger down the waistband of his jeans. “I think you’re right. We should slow down.” And maybe prepare ourselves for what could be a challenging year ahead.
“I thought you were getting here in the morning.”
I was past the age where I was going to spring apart from a boyfriend. If my mother didn’t want to see our public displays of affection, she needed to announce herself before entering. Clearly the extra sensory perception hadn’t been watered down.
“We decided to leave when the traffic would be non-existent. How do you do that? Know exactly when one of us comes in?”