Nicola’s face was red and blotchy and Lottie softened at the sight of her. Her aunt may not have been the warmest of characters, but she didn’t deserve the Christmas she had had so far.
‘I don’t think so. I’ve had to tell Rhys he’s not an only child.’
‘How did he take it?’ asked Lottie.
‘He doesn’t seem bothered. He just kept saying if Rebecca’s twenty then it happened ages ago so it’s “no biggy”.’ Lottie had to smile at Nicola using Rhys’s turn of phrase.
‘If he’s okay, that’s a big hurdle over. Don’t miss out on your Christmas dinner.’
‘I’m not sure I could stand the smug looks,’ said Nicola.
‘It won’t be like that. I promise. They’ll all be far too busy inspecting the meal I’ve produced and worrying if it’s going to land them in A&E.’
Nicola didn’t smile. ‘You all think I deserve it.’
Lottie shook her head. ‘No one thinks that.’ Nicola gave her a knowing look.
‘Really. Nobody deserves to be cheated on. And they certainly don’t deserve to be confronted with it on Christmas morning.’ Aunt Nicola was lots of things: she was a snob, a social climber and not the most sensitive of people, but she was not a bad person.
‘Thank you. Do you want to know a secret?’
Lottie wasn’t sure she could cope with any more secrets, but despite this she said, ‘If you want to share, of course.’
Nicola’s expression was unreadable. ‘I didn’t know about Daniel’s affair. Not a clue. I just said I knew all about it so he’d not think he’d won. But I found out at the same time as you all did when she … Rebecca, walked in.’ Nicola’s voice was steady, defying the tears which were silently running down her cheeks. ‘I know it happened a long time ago but I can’t just dismiss it.’
Lottie pulled her aunt into a tight hug. ‘Come on,’ she said, stepping back. ‘You’ve never been one to hide away. Remember it’s Uncle Daniel who’s in the wrong here.’
This seemed to galvanise Nicola. She straightened her shoulders, strode onto the landing and shut the bedroom door behind her. ‘Then what are we waiting for?’ she asked, blotting her eyes and smoothing down her hair. This was more like the Aunt Nicola Lottie was used to.
When they entered the dining room everyone was sitting in the right places, which was a feat in itself. Jessie was chatting happily to Scott and they seemed unaware that everyone else in the room had fallen deathly quiet. Lottie was thankful that someone had put on some Christmas music. A few eyes darted in their general direction but quickly refocused on piling their plates high with the bounty of food, which Emily must have ferried to the table in Lottie’s absence. Nicola took her place opposite Daniel. Lottie wished she’d thought to move one of them, but it was too late now to do anything without it turning into the most awkward game of musical chairs ever.
She lit the candles and took her seat on the end so she was near the door for a quick exit to sort out the pudding. She noted that most plates were full but there was still plenty of food on the table, meaning she had catered for twice as many people, just like Nana used to do – although there were no pigs in blankets left for her, which was hugely disappointing. Lottie stuck her fork into a large roast potato and felt the crispiness of the outside. A little bud of pride blossomed inside her.
‘What is that?’ asked Rhys, pointing at Jessie’s papier mâché creation, unable to hide his grin.
Bernard raised his eyebrows. ‘Looks like a giant—’
‘Holly! It’s holly. Leaf and berries,’ explained Lottie, outlining the shape in the air and immediately wishing she hadn’t. ‘Jessie made it.’ Everyone congratulated Jessie, and Bernard smothered his dinner in gravy, still chuckling under his breath.
‘Here you go,’ said Bernard, passing the gravy boat to Angie.
‘No thanks,’ she said, picking up her cutlery.
Bernard looked more shocked than he had at the Rebecca revelations. ‘No gravy? What on earth is wrong with you?’ he asked.
Angie kept her eyes on her plate. ‘Nothing.’
‘But you always have gravy – and loads of it!’ He put a finger in the air as if a thought had struck him. He caught a drip of the gravy and tasted it. ‘It’s okay. Lottie’s done a fine job.’ He offered the gravy again.
‘No, thank you,’ said Angie more firmly this time.
‘You’re worrying me now, Angie. What’s the matter?’ Bernard plonked down the gravy boat and studied his niece with genuine concern.
‘Nothing is wrong. I’m a vegan,’ she said, in almost a whisper.
Bernard gave a hearty chortle. ‘Well you weren’t five minutes ago when we were stealing those pigs in blankets.’ Angie’s eyes were wider than a bush baby’s sitting on an ant’s nest. For a moment everyone at the table paused apart from Jessie, who was simultaneously eating a carrot whilst peering down the end of her cracker.
Scott gave a half laugh from across the table, but when Angie didn’t look up he put down his knife and fork. ‘Angie? He’s joking right?’
‘Not at all,’ said Bernard. ‘She couldn’t scoff them down quick enough.’ He started another chortle but glanced around the table and seemed to notice the discomfort in everyone’s body language.
‘You’re not a vegan?’ asked Scott, confusion distorting his pretty features.
‘Is she heck as like. She’s always been a committed carnivore, has this one,’ said Bernard proudly. Bernard turned and clocked Angie’s expression. ‘Angie? What’s up?’
Angie dropped her cutlery onto her plate. The clatter made Jessie drop her cracker and splatter gravy across the tablecloth. ‘All right. I may have fallen off the vegan wagon for a moment. It’s not an actual crime.’ She aimed her words at Scott.
Poor Scott appeared genuinely surprised. ‘Being a vegan isn’t like going on a diet. It’s a long-term commitment.’
This would be something alien to Angie – her only long-term commitment was to her honey-blonde hair colour. Other than that, everything else, including her children, was a passing phase.
‘And I am prepared to make that commitment. I want to, I really do,’ said Angie, her voice softening. Lottie wasn’t sure her mother was still talking about being a vegan.
Lottie cleared her throat. ‘Could you pour the wine please, Zach?’
Zach did as he was asked. He was quieter than usual. ‘You okay?’ mouthed Lottie. He gave a nervous nod. What did that mean? Did he know about the pregnancy test? Or was he still fretting about the jewellery making its way through Dave’s colon?
‘Sorry,’ said Scott, realising everyone had stopped eating.
‘No need to apologise,’ said Daniel, kindly. Nicola’s head jerked up at the sound of his voice and for once he met her gaze straight on. Lottie froze. It was like witnessing a prey animal suddenly turn predator. ‘I should apologise,’ said Daniel. The tension in the room was palpable and everyone looked like they were taking part in a mannequin challenge – all stock still. ‘I’m very sorry about the outburst this morning.’ Nicola opened her mouth but he continued. ‘And my behaviour in general.’ There were embarrassed mumbles around the table.
‘Um.’ Lottie tipped her head in the direction of Jessie, who was watching intently, and Daniel gave the briefest of nods. She’d been out with Joe at the time of the showdown and the less she knew about it the better.
Daniel looked contrite. ‘That wasn’t how I wanted to introduce Rebecca to the family.’ More mumbles followed.
Joe mouthed to Lottie, ‘What’s going on?’
‘Tell you later,’ she mouthed in return. Their ability to read each other’s lips was still there.
Everyone tucked into their meals. Watching them eat was like the Hungry Hippos game had come to life.
‘Is it cracker time?’ asked Jessie, mid-mouthful.
‘Yes, I think it is,’ said Lottie, wiping her mouth on her serviette feeling thankful for the distraction. Jessie grinned.
A frenzy of cr
acker pulling and bangs followed and laughter filled the room. Hats were put on, cracker prizes swapped and pun-filled jokes read out. Lottie had a brief sense of satisfaction as she watched her mad, lovable family interacting. For a moment all tensions were forgotten – or at least were put on hold.
Zach looked pleased with his cracker prize. He winked at his sister.
‘This meal is lovely,’ said Joe, pointing his knife at his plate. A chorus of agreement rippled around the table and Lottie felt her cheeks colour. This was what she’d been striving for. Despite the arguments, interruptions, revelations and chargrilled turkey, she’d done it: she’d made her first-ever Christmas dinner.
‘But no bread sauce?’ asked Bernard, scanning the table.
Lottie rolled her eyes. ‘Not this year. Sorry.’
‘Oh, that’s a shame. Christmas highlight that is,’ said Bernard, and Dayea rubbed his hand in condolence. ‘Always have bread sauce at Christmas.’
‘Nobody really likes it though,’ said Lottie, feeling defensive.
‘I like bread sauce,’ said her mother; and there were a few nods of agreement. Lottie shook her head – there was no pleasing some people.
‘Can’t say I’ve missed it,’ said Joe. Lottie was grateful for the support, but it felt uncomfortable that it was coming from him.
‘I shouldn’t think you’ve missed much. America has all the stuff we have, plus a million other better things,’ said Rhys.
Joe swallowed his mouthful. ‘There’s a couple of things I missed.’ He gave the briefest of glances in Lottie’s direction and her stomach flipped.
‘Marmite?’ suggested Zach, and the conversation flowed merrily as they compared the differences between the two countries, largely focusing on food. Everyone was eating and chattering, and it felt like Christmas.
Cutlery was placed on empty plates and contented sighs abounded, which was Lottie’s cue to clear the table.
‘Please can Dave come in now?’ asked Jessie.
‘Not yet,’ said Lottie, but as soon as she opened the dining room door, Dave shot in anyway, performing a quick sweep of the room like a highly trained sniffer dog before grabbing something from under the table and racing off.
Most of the plates had been cleared into the kitchen, and Emily had run out of ideas for ways to help between courses. She found herself sitting at the dining room table with the warring couple. Nicola was glaring at Daniel, who was staring at his phone. The looks between them burned with unspoken arguments. Emily thought her family had disagreements, but this was on a whole new level. The uncomfortable silence was too much for her: it gave her time to think about her own situation, and she really didn’t want to do that.
She needed to get things straight in her own mind. Seeing the two blue lines on the pregnancy test had affected her differently to how she’d expected. Rather than terror or devastation, there had been a surprising pop of something else. She reluctantly had to admit that maybe a tiny part of her would be okay with being pregnant. She didn’t fully understand it. Perhaps she just wanted the silly competition with her sister to be over. Or maybe motherhood was something she’d put to one side for too long?
‘The manor house is lovely. Did you used to live here?’ she asked Daniel, in a desperate attempt to break the silence.
‘Yeah. We moved here when I was about four. Actually, Nicola also lived here for a bit.’ He glanced at his wife. She was laser beaming him with her stare.
‘Did I? When?’
Daniel put his phone down. ‘After you fell out with the university mates you were sharing a place with.’
‘Oh. Yes. I remember.’
Daniel leaned forward and narrowed his eyes. ‘Come to think of it I remember something else about that, too.’ He turned his attention to Emily, as if telling her the story. ‘One of them was a bloke, and he kept turning up here. And relentless phone calls too. He was desperate to talk to Nicola. What was his name?’ Daniel clicked his fingers as if trying to conjure up the name as he might summon a waiter.
‘Nigel,’ said Nicola, her tone snappy.
‘Yes, Nigel. I always wondered about Nigel, if maybe he and Nicola had been more than just friends,’ he continued to speak to Emily. ‘But I decided not to pursue it. Because Nicola was with me, so whatever had gone on didn’t matter. It was in the past.’
‘Right,’ said Emily, wishing she could slink away without being noticed.
‘I mean I’ve often wondered exactly what happened between Nigel and Nicola; but I let it lie. Didn’t go on about it.’
Nicola slapped a palm on the table, giving Emily a start. ‘Fine, Daniel. If we’re getting all the secrets out on the table – I kissed Nigel. Okay? Well, we kissed each other after too much cider, and it was all rather awkward. It wasn’t an affair and there was no resulting child.’
‘Ah!’ pounced Daniel. ‘But a kiss is still a betrayal isn’t it?’ he asked Emily.
‘Um. I suppose …’ They were both staring at her now. She swallowed hard.
‘I’ve been helping,’ announced Jessie, returning to the room with Uncle Bernard close behind her.
‘Ooh good idea. I should help too,’ said Emily, quickly getting to her feet, as she spied her chance to leave. She’d heard of being caught between a rock and a hard place, but that was like being under a landslide.
‘We should help too, Daniel,’ said Nicola and they followed Emily from the room. There was no escape.
Everyone had been very keen to help clear the table, so Lottie found herself in the kitchen surrounded by helpers, leaving only Jessie and Bernard in the dining room. She figured they’d all spotted an opportunity to look and feel like they’d helped with Christmas dinner by chipping in with the bare minimum. Oh well, it meant she could focus on the pudding while they squabbled over how best to stack the dishwasher. And squabbling they were.
‘Dad, you can’t put the saucepans in or there’s no space for the plates,’ said Rhys.
‘We’ll need to wash the plates by hand,’ said Daniel.
‘But that’s loads,’ said Nicola. ‘Far easier to wash a couple of pans,’ she added, taking them out of the dishwasher. Rhys and Daniel started adding the plates.
‘I’ll leave these to soak,’ said Nicola putting the pans in the sink. It didn’t take a genius to work out who would be washing those up.
‘If you put the plates in the other way round I can put these mixing bowls in,’ said Emily hovering nearby. There were huffs in response but they made the changes so Emily could add the bowls.
Joe waved a full cutlery holder about. ‘Where does this go?’
The dishwasher crew all stared at the full machine and sighed in resignation.
Jessie’s scream ripped through the house. Everyone rushed to the dining room, Zach in the lead. Lottie dashed in behind Joe to see the table on fire: a funeral pyre of their Christmas. The smoke alarm screamed into life in the hallway, which added to the panic. Zach was shielding a tearful Jessie.
‘Open the window,’ yelled Joe, scooping up the flames in the table protector and charging towards Lottie with the flaming bundle as wine glasses crashed to the floor. She flicked the catch and flung the window open, just in time for Joe to hurl the ball of flames through it. It gave a satisfying and reassuring hiss as it hit the wet ground outside.
The smoke alarm stopped. The buzz of Bernard’s wheelchair grew closer and he appeared in the doorway and surveyed the scene. The panicked faces all turned in his direction. ‘I only popped to the loo. What the devil’s going on now?’ he asked.
‘You okay?’ Zach asked Jessie, his face full of concern as he checked her over for any signs of damage. Emily joined him and wrapped the child in a hug; it was an instinctive gesture and despite the drama it brought a brief smile to Lottie’s lips.
Jessie nodded and sniffed back a tear. ‘I thought I could put the candle out with the tablecloth like Joe did when the oven gloves were on fire.’ Lottie thought back to Joe throwing a wet tea towel over them. ‘I
t all caught fire at once,’ she added, the horror of the moment in her wide eyes.
‘That’s the end of Rose’s special German tablecloth,’ said Bernard, peering out of the window.
‘Nana bought that years ago. I doubt it was subject to any fire-retardant guidelines,’ said Lottie, joining him at the window and surveying the smoking mass. She turned back to see Joe was wincing. She looked down at his hands. ‘Bloody hell, Joe. You’ve burnt yourself.’ It probably wasn’t the thanks he would have liked.
‘It just needs cold water,’ he said, squeezing past Bernard’s chair and exiting the room. Lottie followed him.
In the kitchen Lottie ran the cold tap and thrust Joe’s hands under it; he didn’t protest. She hastily emptied the contents of the ice tray into a bowl – Angie would have to do without any in her G&T. ‘Let’s have a look,’ said Lottie, holding out her hands. Joe placed his dripping wet fingers in hers. Despite everything, the intimate contact made her stomach tumble over.
Lottie concentrated her attention on Joe’s hands. ‘Left one is okay,’ he said, and she agreed. The right one however was very red and already blistering on the palm.
‘Here,’ she gently put his right hand into the bowl with the ice. ‘Keep it in there for as long as you can bear. It’ll help reduce the damage.’
‘Thanks.’ He looked a little sheepish.
‘You were really brave back there,’ said Lottie, finally giving him the credit he deserved for acting so quickly.
He shrugged. ‘I just got there first.’ Typical Joe, always modest.
They both stared at his hand, distorted by the water. For a moment they glanced up at the same time and then hastily returned their eyes to the bowl.
Lottie looked away and realised they had an audience. A number of faces were at the kitchen doorway.
‘Right. Show’s over. Back to Christmas.’ Lottie clapped her hands. She was not going to let this Christmas get derailed – not even by a tablecloth inferno.
One Family Christmas: The perfect, cosy, heart-warming read to curl up with this winter Page 16