There’s a general murmur of consent around the table. Despite all the food we’ve packed in, at Christmas there’s always room for more.
‘Robin,’ I say, ‘could you possibly give me a hand bringing it in from the kitchen?’
‘Absolutely,’ Robin says. He retrieves his hands from beneath the table and goodness knows where. He seems to be fulfilling his promise to get roaring drunk today, as he staggers away from the table and lurches after me.
In the kitchen, I pull dessert bowls out of the cupboards. As there are sixteen of us sitting down, not all of them match. However, that’s the least of my problems.
‘Are you enjoying yourself, Robin?’ I ask, forcing a casual air.
‘Wonderful,’ he enthuses. ‘Excellent meal.’
‘Mali is a lovely girl, isn’t she?’ I’m actually not sure that she’s a lovely girl at all, if I’m honest. She seems like a golddigging opportunist who can’t control her children, if you ask me. But you know what I mean.
‘Oh, yes,’ he says. ‘Top drawer.’
Bottom drawer would be my assessment but, as a mother, you can’t help but be protective of your children no matter how misguided their choice of partner might be.
‘She’s also Tom’s girlfriend,’ I remind him gently.
‘Ah, yes,’ he says, slightly shamefaced.
She may not be for much longer, I suspect. But for the moment, at least, that’s her classification. For Mali, I fear the garlic-crusher present sealed the fate on their future. For Tom, I think it was her trying to get off with my boss, who clearly is a better prospect than my boy.
‘I understand that it’s the season of goodwill to all men. I do, however, think that Mali might be taking it a bit too far.’
‘Message received and understood,’ Robin says. ‘Just enjoying the attention, really – and she is very nice.’
I’m not sure Tom would agree with him right now, but I feel I’ve made my point.
‘Would you carry the bowls through for me please, Robin?’ I was going to get him to light the brandy, as it’s a man-type job, but I think he’s too far gone to be trusted with a naked flame. If he accidentally breathes on it, he might spontaneously combust.
I ping both of the hosed-down puddings and then put them on a silver platter that I keep in the back of the cupboard for the other 364 days of the year. To garnish, I stick a sprig of holly picked from my single precious bush in the garden on the top of each one and carry them into the dining room.
‘Ta-da!’ I say with false bravado as I put the puddings on the table.
Mitch stands up. ‘Can I say something please, Juliet?’ I notice that his hands are shaking.
‘Of course you can, love.’ I tap with my ladle on the table and everyone falls silent. Without further ado, in front of Chloe, Mitch goes down on one knee. From his pocket, he produces a ring box and flips open the lid. Wow. That ring doesn’t look like it came out of a cracker.
Mitch clears his throat. ‘Chloe,’ he says, voice wavering. ‘Would you do me the very great honour of becoming my wife?’
‘Oh,’ Chloe says. She swivels to look at me, eyes wide, questioning. I smile encouragingly at her and urge her silently, Go on, girl. You can do this. Please say yes! Then she turns back to Mitch. ‘Yes. I’d love to.’
He slips off the plastic ring she’s wearing and replaces it with the sparkling diamond. It fits perfectly. She flings her arms round his neck and they hug each other tightly.
Round the table, we all clap and then queue up to hug Mitch and Chloe.
‘Congratulations,’ I say to them. ‘I couldn’t be more pleased.’
‘It’ll mean a new hat, Juliet,’ Mitch teases.
‘I’ll consider it money very well spent.’
‘Welcome to the family.’ Rick claps Mitch on the back.
‘Nice one, mate,’ Tom offers. ‘Thanks for taking her off our hands. I might get my room back now.’
Chloe kicks her brother in the shin, as she’s been doing since she was about three years old.
‘What’s going on?’ my mother shouts.
‘Chloe and Mitch are going to get married,’ Dad explains.
‘Now? I thought you said this wasn’t a wedding.’
‘Not now, Rita. But soon.’
‘Oh,’ she says, perplexed. ‘That’s nice.’
‘It is,’ I agree, dabbing a tear away. ‘It’s lovely.’
Chapter Eighty
Pudding seems a bit of an anticlimax now. But when I fill my ladle with brandy, set it alight and pour it over my puddings, my guests gasp with delight. Little do they know that I’m disinfecting it as much as anything. God, I hope it doesn’t taste of dog slobber. That would be a terrible end to an otherwise lovely dinner. Also, having taken all this time to decide to get married, I don’t want to kill off the bride and groom before they make it to the altar.
I start to dish out the pudding and, as I do, notice that Niran and Kamol are missing from the table. They must have sneaked out when everyone was congratulating Chloe and Mitch. ‘Where are the boys?’
‘I dunno,’ Mali says, already focused on Robin again. Who, quite quickly, seems to have forgotten our little kitchen pep talk.
‘Let’s move places,’ Rick says loudly. ‘Chat to someone else.’ There’s much reluctant shuffling of chairs. ‘Merak and Lisa, you can stay where you are. Mali, you go and sit next to Tom. Chloe, come and sit next to your old dad.’
‘It’s Christmas lunch, Dad,’ Chloe complains. ‘Not bloody musical chairs.’
‘Bring my lovely grandson with you too.’
Chloe huffs, as she always must, but does as she’s told.
‘I’ll sit next to Mum,’ I offer. ‘Dad, you come and talk to Mitch.’
‘Right-oh,’ my ever-compliant father agrees, and toddles to the other end of the table. Every time I look at Dad I feel a rush of love, and I can’t bear to think of him crying alone in the garden. Now his cheeks are rosy from the fizz and he looks like he’s enjoyed his lunch. All I want is to make his life easy for him from now on.
Rick has made a good stab at defusing the Mali–Robin situation, but I notice when she sits down next to Tom that they glare at each other.
When everyone has some Christmas pudding, I excuse myself from the table and go in search of our errant teenagers. Frankly, I’m also glad to be away from the table at the moment when they actually taste it.
I search the house, but can’t find them. So I slip on my coat and wellies and go outside. Buster, Christmas-pudding fiend, takes the chance to stretch his legs and check out his favourite trees. I call the boys, but get no answer. It’s nice to take five minutes in the fresh air away from the warm fug of the house. Since my mother arrived, it always has to be the correct temperature for growing marijuana or she complains about the cold. Then I notice a trail of footsteps heading towards Rick’s shed and follow them.
Sure enough, inside I find Niran and Kamol. And, sure enough, they’re up to no good. The boys are sprawled out on the sunloungers playing with Nintendo DS’s. Between them is the bottle of advocaat, and they’re both smoking cigarettes in a practised manner. Neither of them seem overly concerned that they’ve been rumbled.
‘I think you need to come back to the house now,’ I say firmly. ‘Your mother will be wondering where you are.’
The shrugs that they give me indicate she probably won’t be. Nevertheless, I make them stub out their cigarettes in the snow, confiscate my mother’s advocaat and march them back inside. Do they walk in a slightly unsteady manner? I’m not sure. But I am sure that there’s a lot less in that bottle than there was. And, indeed, when we arrive back in the living room, their mother hasn’t noticed their absence at all. On the plus side no one, it seems, has died from eating the Christmas pudding.
The boys sit sullenly at the table and I consider telling Mali of their misdemeanours and then decide that I’d more than likely be wasting my breath. Even though she’s sitting next to Tom now, all her focus
is back on Robin and I don’t think anything I say will shift it. She’s flirting down the full length of the table, and I can’t understand why Tom wanted to bring this odious woman and her offspring to our family gathering – even if I did nag him about settling down. Perhaps he did it in a misguided attempt to appease me. Then I glance over at my son and my heart squeezes. Tom looks as if he’s regretting being so fast and loose with his Christmas-lunch invitations and has hardly spoken a word all afternoon.
You can’t choose your children’s partners, but I damn well wish I could. But Chloe has done well with Mitch, and I just hope she starts to appreciate that more. Next year I will be vetting our guest list. All girlfriends and boyfriends will have to have been here at least once before, and anyone we’ve discovered naked in our bed is banned.
Chapter Eighty-One
After lunch is over, Rick and I wash up. Weeks and weeks of shopping, stress and preparation, and that’s it. All done. I always think that with the end of lunch, that’s Christmas pretty much over. Now it’s all about eating leftovers and tidying up. And paying for it.
Merak, of course, wanted to help us in the kitchen, but after he’d carried a few dishes out from the living room we dismissed him from duties for the day. I’d rather he spent some time getting to know Lisa and Izzy, as I’d quite like to think that a romance may be blossoming from our Christmas gathering. That would be a nice way to start the new year. Actually I think there may be two romances blossoming, but I choose not to think about the other one.
Tom and Rick move the drafted-in tables back into the garden and the kitchen, so the living room now looks less like a restaurant and we can all spread out a bit when they’ve returned the sofas to their usual positions.
‘Enjoy it, love?’ Rick asks.
‘It’s been great to have everyone here.’ But exhausting. I can’t wait to put my feet up for an hour now.
‘It’s good news about Chloe and Mitch,’ he says.
‘I’m delighted for them. I really hope they make a go of it, for the sake of the children. Perhaps Chloe is finally growing up.’
‘Not before time,’ Rick says.
‘It just takes some people longer than others. We’ll have to help them out with the wedding.’
‘I’m hoping they’ll have a low-key affair.’
‘Chloe? Low-key?’ Perhaps that is wishing for too much. I don’t remind Rick that her favourite programme on television is My Big Fat Gypsy Wedding, and that she doesn’t gasp in horror as she’s watching it, as I do. We ought to start saving up – and fast.
‘We’d better get on,’ I say. ‘They’ll all be wondering where we’ve got to. Have you taken the tea and coffee order?’
‘I’ll do it now,’ Rick says and disappears, taking the shopping notepad with him like a waitress, while I fill the kettle.
Buster risks coming out of his bed and wags his tail cautiously as he approaches me. ‘You’re in the clear,’ I tell him. ‘They all ate the Christmas pudding.’ In fact, everyone commented on how tasty it was this year. If only they knew. ‘No one died.’
At that, his tail wags more enthusiastically. Putting my Christmas hat on him, I ruffle his ears then hand-feed him a few of the last remaining bits of the turkey. I think, all in all, it’s been a good Christmas Day for Buster too.
Chloe pops her head round the door. ‘Mitch and I are going to disappear for half an hour to bath and feed Holly. Can you keep an eye on Jaden please, Mum? Grandad’s got him for now, but he looks like he’s about to nod off.’
I’m not surprised. He must be worn out.
‘Let me have a proper look at this ring first.’ My daughter holds out her hand proudly. I angle the diamond towards the light and it sparkles fiercely.
‘Who’d have thought?’ she says. ‘Had Mitch said anything to you?’
‘Not a thing.’ It was as much of a surprise for me as it was for Chloe. ‘You are pleased?’
‘Yeah. I’m over the moon.’ Her face is glowing. ‘He’s a really great bloke, Mum. And, more than that, he’s a fantastic father.’
‘I’m pleased for you both, and the ring is gorgeous. Any man who can buy jewellery like that is worth hanging on to.’
‘I’m so lucky, aren’t I?’
I hug my child. ‘Yes. Don’t ever forget that.’
‘I’ll try not to,’ Chloe says. ‘I’d better go before Holly starts to scream the place down.’
‘Do you want me to bring some tea up to you?’
‘Nah. We’ll have it when we come down.’
‘Is Mitch going to stay tonight?’
‘Yeah,’ Chloe says. ‘Is that OK?’
‘If you can all bundle in together. It looks like we might have a full house. Merak’s staying here, and I hope Lisa and Izzy will, too.’
‘They’d make a nice couple.’
‘I think so.’
‘We’ll get out of your hair.’
‘There’s no rush. We love having you all here.’
She shrugs. ‘I think we’d like a quiet day on Boxing Day. I’ll probably go back to our place with Mitch tomorrow.’
I smile at her. ‘If you’re going to get married, it would be a good idea to move back in with Mitch at some point.’
Chloe perches on the kitchen table. ‘I’m frightened, Mum,’ she admits as she fiddles with her new ring. ‘I really want to marry Mitch. Honestly I do. But it scares me, too. When it’s just me, there seems to be so much responsibility. I’ve got to make decisions about everything. All the time. Running your own house is hard.’
‘The more you do it, the more you’ll find you’re able to manage,’ I assure her.
She doesn’t look convinced. ‘I’ve liked being here with you to help me. Life is so much easier. I can hardly cope with Jaden on my own. How am I going to handle two?’
‘You’ll do just fine. Dad and I will still be here for you. That won’t change.’
‘You’re a great mum. You’ve always been so fab, and I’ve taken it all for granted. Now I’m going to appreciate you more and try to be more like you. I only hope that I can do as well for my kids.’
‘Give them a proper home, Chloe. A proper family. You won’t go far wrong then.’
‘I don’t know if I’m really cut out to be a wife and mother.’
‘It’s too late to be dwelling on that now,’ I point out.
‘All my mates are still single and out clubbing. I can’t help thinking that, at my age, that’s what I should be doing too.’
‘You’ve got two little ones who depend on you.’
‘Yeah, and that milkshake isn’t going to bring the boys to my yard,’ she jokes.
Perhaps that’s part of her reticence to embrace motherhood. Chloe has always enjoyed a lot of male attention. Maybe she sees this as diminishing her sexuality. I don’t like to tell her that it only gets worse. By the time Holly is a toddler, she’ll be so tired that she won’t care if she ever has sex again. Then, when her engine is set to start revving again, the menopause hits. Life as a woman is not always easy. I think she’s only just discovering that.
Instead of heaping doom and gloom on her, I say, ‘You’ve got a wonderful man, Chloe. One who loves you and cares for you. One who’s waited patiently. It’s a big responsibility to bring up a family. It’s no good wishing that you could turn back the clock now. That’s not going to happen.’ I put my arm round her shoulders. ‘There might come a day when your friends wish they had what you’ve got. Lots of women find themselves in their thirties wanting to settle down and start a family and yet not being able to find the right man. Instead of focusing on the downside, you could start looking at what you’ve got and think how fortunate you are. You’ve got two beautiful, healthy children, a man who obviously adores you and a lovely home waiting for you.’
‘I know that.’ She hangs her head. ‘And I’ve got great parents who’d do anything for me.’
‘Don’t be frightened by it; you’re just moving on to a different stage in your li
fe. It’s called growing up, Chloe. We all have to do it sometime.’
My daughter grins at me. ‘Are you absolutely sure about that?’
‘This is your time to shine. Embrace your future. Enjoy building your family.’
‘I’ll try,’ she says, and tears sparkle in her eyes as shiny as her new diamond. ‘But we can still come back here every Sunday for roast dinner?’
I laugh. ‘Of course you can. I need to know that you’ll all have at least one decent meal a week.’
‘You’re the best mum in the world,’ she says. ‘I want my kids to say the same about me one day.’
‘I’m sure they will.’
‘Love you loads.’ My daughter – my beautiful, lazy, stubborn, headstrong, selfish, infuriating, wonderful daughter – cuffs the tears away.
‘I love you too.’ Then Chloe jumps down from the table, as she’s been doing since she was twelve or thirteen, a child herself, slips her arms round my neck and gives me a hug. Then she goes to look after her baby.
Chapter Eighty-Two
I’m feeling quite teary when Rick comes back with the drink orders. Not that he notices.
‘I hate to tell you this,’ he says, ‘but I can’t see Mali or Robin anywhere.’
‘You’re joking.’ But I know that he’s not.
‘What do you want to do?’
‘Let’s get everyone settled and then I’ll go and look for
them. Where’s Tom?’
‘Pouring beer down his neck in the living room.’
I sigh.
Rick reels off what everyone wants and I make the drinks, then pile up a plate with mince pies. I’m hoping that they’re all too full to want more than one, as I’ve just about enough to go round. I’d better bake some more tomorrow.
When I’ve dished them all out, I put on a lovely Christmassy film, Nativity!, to keep the tribe entertained. Within seconds, Mum and Dad have fallen asleep in front of it, which is fine by me as Mum is a lot less trouble asleep than when she’s awake. Jaden and Izzy are playing happily together on the floor with his racing-car garage, while Lisa and Merak are sitting chastely side by side on the other sofa, chatting away. Mitch and Chloe have taken the chance to disappear so that they can feed and bathe baby Holly, who has been a model of good behaviour all day.
With Love at Christmas Page 31