The door opened and Joe’s face appeared, his expression uneasy. Lottie went into ‘everything is completely fine’ mode. Even though it wasn’t.
His eyes alighted on the phallic centrepiece. ‘Wow. That’s …’
‘Holly,’ said Jessie.
Joe narrowed his eyes and appeared to be stifling a laugh. ‘Of course it is. Anyway, I’m going to pop back down to the pub. I wondered if Jessie wanted to come with me?’
Jessie and Lottie exchanged confused expressions. ‘I think Zach’s trying to cut down her alcohol consumption,’ said Lottie, trying overly hard to sound breezy. Jessie giggled.
Joe shook his head and she noticed a little colour spring to his cheeks. He seemed awkward around her too. Was this how things would be for the rest of the day? Uncomfortable and cautious?
‘Sorry. Let me try again. Petra from the pub said she can let me have a sack of Tiny’s food, but I’m not carrying it up the hill. So I’m going in the car to pick it up. I thought Jessie might like to meet Tiny.’ Jessie was pulling a face. ‘Tiny’s a dog, by the way,’ added Joe, and Jessie’s face lit up. She ran for the door. ‘I’ll take that as a yes,’ he said.
‘Hang on,’ said Lottie. ‘I don’t mean to be judgemental but didn’t you have a skinful earlier?’
‘Nope. I had half a pint. It was Zach who was downing them. And I wouldn’t dream of driving under the influence.’ His expression was serious.
At least he hadn’t changed on that score; she’d always admired his strong moral compass. ‘That’s okay then.’ She busied herself with some serviettes.
Joe rubbed his chin. ‘Actually, that reminds me: is Zach okay? Because he wouldn’t elaborate, but back at the pub he kept saying something like Emily wouldn’t be his girlfriend for much longer.’
‘Erm, I’m sure he will explain when the time is right,’ said Lottie, biting her lip. It was tricky, but she could hardly give away the secret that Emily was about to be upgraded from girlfriend to fiancée.
‘Come on, Joe!’ called Jessie from the hallway.
‘I’d better go.’
‘Make sure you’re both back in time for dinner, or there’ll be trouble.’ Lottie was back to fake jolly mode. Joe gave a short nod before he disappeared. When she heard the front door shut, she let out a sound like a punctured bouncy castle. It was taking so much effort to interact with him. She missed their carefree relationship.
Lottie finished laying the table by herself. Underneath everything else was the thick table protector – as per Nana’s instructions, it always went on first, just in case the heat of the dishes or an accidental spillage damaged her precious antique table. Next, she had used the thick white tablecloth that Nana kept for best, overlaid with a pretty, shiny cloth, deeply embroidered with bright red poinsettias and deep green holly leaves. Nana had brought it back from a German market many years ago. Either side of Jessie’s phallic holly centrepiece were two large candles which promised scents of cinnamon and clementine, surrounded by pinecones and real ivy that Lottie had collected from around the village. It was tasteful apart from the bright red crackers on each place setting; but then you had to have crackers.
Lottie stepped back to admire her handiwork. The table was the picture of Christmas. She hoped Nana would have approved.
Just as Lottie returned to the kitchen, two timers went off simultaneously and the sprouts went volcanic and spewed all over the ancient hob, extinguishing the gas. She began to regret banishing everyone else from the kitchen. She pushed her hair off her face with her hand, forgetting she was wearing oven mitts, and wondered how on earth Nana had managed Christmas dinner – for nine or more – on her own for all those years.
Lottie decided that unless she wanted a disaster on her hands – and all over the kitchen – she needed help. She straightened her apron and strode down the hallway. A cacophony of voices and barking grew in volume as she drew closer to the drawing room. The muddle of fraught voices, interspersed with the dog’s insistent howls, made her realise that what she’d left behind in the kitchen may have been the calmer of the two situations.
She gripped the brass doorknob and was about to steel herself for what lay inside when the butler’s bell began to echo around the manor house. Someone was at the front door. Lottie dropped her hand and claimed the visitor as a temporary escape; she’d tackle the family in a moment. She hurried to the oversized door, opened it and was hit by a sudden rush of icy air. She braced herself against the cold and faced the woman standing on the steps, her petite face framed by the fur trim of her hood.
‘Happy Christmas!’ Lottie chimed, before she clocked the young woman’s tense expression.
‘Nicola?’ the woman asked, appraising Lottie in a way that made her shiver more than the chill winter’s air had.
‘No. I’m her niece, Lottie. But come in, I can get Aunt Nicola for you.’ Lottie ushered the woman inside; the front door gave a tired creak as Lottie shoved it closed and led the way. She was beginning to feel uneasy at the thought of eking out the turkey any further; although if the visitor was vegan, she was in luck.
‘Sorry, I didn’t catch your name?’ asked Lottie, as they reached the drawing room. It still sounded as though a football match were taking place inside. The woman ignored Lottie, opened the door and strode in.
Inside, the family appeared to be conducting at least three simultaneous arguments: Angie was trying to get Jessie’s robot off Zach, Daniel was pressing buttons on the robovac whilst Nicola shouted out the instructions, and Uncle Bernard was arguing with his wheelchair. Dave was bouncing up and down by the windowsill whilst the Duchess clung precariously to the curtain top with unsheathed claws. Lottie opened her mouth intending to yell ‘shut up’, but the woman was already shouting.
‘Dan!’ Her voice commanded instant and total attention; the noise dwindled away and everyone, including the animals, turned to look. Uncle Daniel’s habitual high colour drained to white and he rushed forward, bumping his shin on the antique coffee table in his attempt to intercept the woman as quickly as possible.
‘Daniel?’ Aunt Nicola’s voice sliced through the room. She twitched a smile at the young woman but directed her question at her husband who was now halfway across the room, vigorously rubbing his bruised shin. ‘Who is this?’
Daniel started to speak but there were no distinguishable words, only a jumble of incomprehensible burbles. His gaze pivoted from Nicola, to the young woman, and back to Nicola’s increasingly fierce face.
The woman pulled down her hood to reveal long, golden hair. She was exceptionally pretty.
‘I’m Rebecca,’ said the woman, before Daniel could answer.
Chapter Sixteen
‘I don’t think it was a good idea to come here, Rebecca,’ said Daniel, his voice barely a whisper, his expression one of stunned mortification.
Rebecca lifted her chin. ‘But you said you would spend this Christmas with me,’ she said.
‘Daniel?’ snapped Nicola. When he didn’t answer, she walked calmly over to Rebecca. The heads in the room swivelled like they were watching match point on centre court at Wimbledon.
Rebecca straightened her spine and the two women weighed each other up.
Lottie cleared her throat. Daggers were hurled in her direction for interrupting the floor show, but she continued anyway. ‘I think this might be a discussion you’d like to have in the snug?’ she suggested, opening the door and hoping the three key performers would exit. Nobody moved.
‘I’m leaving now, Dan. Are you coming?’ asked Rebecca. Lottie held the door open and watched the cool draught from the hallway waft the tinsel as everything else in the room stayed still. Duchess saw her opportunity, jumped down from the curtain and darted through the open door; Lottie shut it quickly to halt Dave’s chase. Rebecca looked momentarily startled. ‘Sorry,’ said Lottie. ‘They can’t be in the same room or they fight.’
‘Like some other people we could mention,’ said Bernard. ‘What?’ he said to the looks
that were fired in his direction. ‘We’re all thinking it.’
‘Can we just talk about this?’ asked Daniel. Nicola and Rebecca both spun in his direction, making him jolt at his obvious mistake. ‘I mean …’ He looked from one to the other.
‘I’m done talking,’ said Rebecca. ‘No more empty promises.’ Her voice cracked and Lottie immediately wanted to comfort her.
‘I’ve certainly got some things I’d like to say,’ said Nicola, eyeballing her husband, her voice laden with sarcasm.
Daniel cupped his chin; or perhaps he was protecting his throat, Lottie couldn’t be sure. Whichever, it seemed a guarded gesture. ‘Nicola, I didn’t mean for you to find out like this. I—’
Nicola let out a hollow tinkle of a laugh. ‘Oh, don’t for a moment assume this is a big surprise, Daniel. You’ve been acting strange for weeks. Always late home, constantly on your phone. You’re not exactly MI5 material.’
‘Nicola, don’t … it’s not what you think,’ said Daniel.
Nicola’s eyes locked onto her husband. ‘I think it’s exactly what I think. What’s it to be? Me or her?’ She turned slowly back to stare, unblinking, at Rebecca.
‘Dan. Aren’t you going to say something?’ Rebecca’s lips formed a hard line.
Uncle Daniel was running both his hands over his head where his hair used to be. ‘I … um …’ He blew out his cheeks and shook his head. ‘You see … the thing is …’
‘Fine. I’m leaving.’ Rebecca marched to the door. Lottie faltered as Dave was nearby. She muttered an apology for blocking Rebecca’s exit, scooped up Dave and stepped aside.
‘Goodbye. And sorry everyone for interrupting your Christmas.’ There were mumbles and coughs in response. Rebecca gave Lottie a tight smile as she opened the door for her, and the young woman strode out with her head high.
‘Well, that was tawdry,’ said Nicola, picking up a glass with a shaky hand and pouring herself a large brandy. ‘Can you believe her chutzpah?’
‘I bet you’re good at Scrabble,’ said Scott, and Angie gave him a nudge.
Daniel, who appeared to have been in a state of suspended animation, suddenly bolted for the door. ‘Rebecca. Wait!’
For a second Nicola looked like she was going to vomit. Instead she finished the brandy, returned the glass to the silver tray and followed her husband from the room. There was a brief moment where the others exchanged looks, and then Angie scurried out the door, keen not to miss the next act. The rest followed quick on her heels, with poor Bernard bringing up the rear after he got a wheel caught on the sofa.
Emily grabbed Zach’s arm and pulled him to one side as they exited the drawing room. His eyes followed the row in full swing at the open front door as she dragged his body towards the kitchen.
‘Zach.’ Emily’s tone wasn’t unlike Nicola’s: it made them both jump. Zach’s head snapped around and he gave her his full attention. ‘Sorry. I don’t think we should intrude,’ said Emily, embarrassed to have witnessed what had just unfolded.
Zach’s face fell. ‘You’re right, of course.’ He paused for a moment, listening to Rebecca’s raised voice. ‘But this is literally the most exciting thing Uncle Daniel has ever done. Ever. And by like a trillion miles.’ Zach emphasised the words with his hands.
‘Zach … I don’t know them and I feel really awkward.’
‘None of us know Rebecca,’ he said. She glared at him. ‘Okay, okay. You’re right.’ He turned his head for one last glimpse of the argument before he let her tug him away. They walked through to the kitchen, where the smells of Christmas dinner greeted them. The Duchess slunk into the utility and curled up on a new mophead.
Emily faced Zach and with a renewed sense of purpose she looked him in the eye. ‘We need to talk.’
Her words seemed to slap him. His expression changed from childlike mischief-maker to undertaker. ‘What is it, Em?’ His eyes searched her face. ‘Is it the porn?’ He shook his head. ‘Of course it’s the porn. I am telling you the God’s honest truth. Like I said I can get Clarky to tell you himself. That man has no shame. He was watching it for most of the stag weekend. I couldn’t avoid it. And I did try.’ Emily tilted her head on one side. ‘Okay, maybe I could have tried a little harder, but I swear I told him to switch it off but he wouldn’t. If I turned it off he switched it back on again. He had paid for some bumper package so he wanted to get his money’s worth.’
She opened her mouth to speak but it was difficult to get a word in.
‘The thing is if Clarky hadn’t been on a porn marathon I wouldn’t have found out about Scott. I knew I’d seen him somewhere before. I remembered because I said to Clarky “Since when did Mark Antony have a tattoo?” He was playing Antony in Cleo-Pant-Tra.’ He clicked his fingers and his face lit up. ‘And he was Barnum in The Great Tits Showman.’
‘Are you making those titles up?’ Emily didn’t want to be distracted but she couldn’t stop the corners of her mouth lifting.
‘No, seriously. It was the worst porn I’ve ever seen. Poke-Her-Hontis was very badly acted.’ Emily’s eyebrows rose and with them Zach’s hands. ‘Not that I’ve watched loads you understand. This is reject porn. That’s what Clarky called it. This stuff is so bad it’s got a bit of a cult following.’ He shook his head. ‘Apparently Fantastic Breasts and Where to Grind Them won some awards.’
‘I don’t want to talk about porn.’
‘No. Of course not. Sorry.’ His brow furrowed. ‘Then what did you want to talk about?’
Emily took a deep breath. Here goes nothing. ‘I want you to come to the bathroom with me.’
Zach’s eyes sparkled and he pulled her to him. ‘Comfier in the bedroom. Jessie will be gone for ages if there’s dogs involved.’
‘Zach, I’m not suggesting sex.’ He looked disappointed. She pushed her hair behind her ears and tried to buy herself a moment’s thinking time. She should have thought this through. She couldn’t seem to conjure up enough words to make the sentence she needed to say. Instead she took his hand and led him back into the hallway, past the quarrelling threesome and their assembled audience and up the stairs. She caught Lottie watching them as they passed and she was buoyed by the warm smile she gave her. Emily clutched Zach’s hand tighter and hoped she was doing the right thing.
‘Hang on. I can’t miss this,’ said Zach. ‘You go on up, I’ll be there in a minute.’
Nicola, Daniel and Rebecca were all outside on the doorstep spitting venom at each other while the rest of the family skulked behind the half-open door. Rebecca started off down the steps.
‘Oh, leaving so soon, Rebecca?’ said Nicola, the name sounding oddly acidic on her tongue. ‘I’m sure we could stretch the turkey to one more. Make it a proper family affair.’
‘Right,’ said Rebecca, spinning on her heel and marching back up the steps to face Nicola. Nicola stood her ground and Daniel clapped his hands to get their attention.
‘Let’s not do this. I can explain,’ he began.
‘But you’re not,’ said Rebecca, throwing her arms up. ‘You’re ashamed of me. Aren’t you?’
‘Well, obviously,’ said Nicola, drily.
‘Will you shut up?’ snapped Rebecca. ‘My God you’re vile. Why the hell he stayed with you instead of my mum I’ll never know.’
‘Her mum too?’ said Angie with a gasp.
‘Shhh,’ said Bernard.
Nicola stepped back. ‘Who’s your mother?’ she asked. Rebecca didn’t answer so Nicola tilted her head at Daniel.
When he spoke he spoke to his shoes. ‘Elaine.’
Nicola let out a startled, tinkling laugh. ‘Elaine? Your old PA?’ Daniel nodded. ‘Well, of course, I knew all about that.’ Nicola straightened her shoulders.
‘It was years ago,’ said Daniel. ‘It’s been over since—’
‘Since she had me,’ cut in Rebecca. ‘I’m his daughter.’
‘Ahhh,’ came the chorus of realisation from the family, still watching from inside.
Dani
el seemed to deflate. ‘Do you see the hopeless situation I’m in?’
‘No, I see the situation you’ve put this poor woman in.’ Nicola uncrossed and recrossed her arms. ‘Rebecca, I am truly sorry for the misunderstanding, and for what I’ve said. However, my first priority is to our son. Rhys doesn’t need to be upset by something like this. It’s an important year for him.’
Rebecca was shaking her head. ‘He’s had a father for nineteen years. I’ve only just … I’ve …’ but her voice cracked and she couldn’t continue. She strode off towards a battered-looking VW Beetle. Nicola turned back towards the house, and the group huddled at the door all pulled away in unison having been caught spying.
‘What’s going on?’ asked Rhys as he joined them in the hallway. The group stared at him guiltily. He pulled off his headphones and leaned in front of Lottie to look out of the window. ‘Who’s that then?’ he asked, pointing at Rebecca’s car reversing erratically across the grass as Daniel jumped in his car and took off after her.
‘It’s, um. Well, she’s …’ Lottie faltered. She’d wanted one last happy family Christmas, but right now she’d settle for one where they got to the end of it without someone being murdered.
‘Can I smell burning?’ asked Rhys.
As if in reply, the smoke alarm began wailing.
‘Dinner,’ said Lottie, almost shouting, and she fled towards the kitchen, thankful to be literally saved by the bell.
As Lottie charged into the kitchen, the Duchess charged out in a blur of fur, and Lottie found herself alone in the smoke-filled room. The shock of it made her take a large breath and she immediately started to cough. Black fumes were billowing from the oven. She had to hold her hand over her nose and mouth as she opened it. A wave of black smoke met her and she blinked hard as it stung her eyes. The turkey was ablaze. Still coughing, Lottie pulled on the oven gloves and rescued their dinner from the oven, dropping the roasting tray unceremoniously onto the kitchen table. As she let go she realised the flames had spread to the oven gloves. She yelped and wrestled them off.
One Family Christmas: The perfect, cosy, heart-warming read to curl up with this winter Page 14