How to Stuff Up Christmas

by Rosie Blake

  ‘Right, everyone,’ he said once they had settled and Minnie had double air-kissed another new arrival, a woman with tight brown curls and an ancient lined face, as if you could count how many years she had been around by counting the different lines. She bustled over next to another lady with a dark-grey bob, who took her lilac handbag off the potter’s wheel seat next door now that her friend had arrived.

  ‘So welcome to a new set of classes gearing up for Christmas. I know some of you are regulars…’ Raj really did have the most melt-in-the-mouth voice, Eve thought, his voice suitable for a night-time chat show on the radio, ‘… but we have some new recruits to this class so do all welcome Eve.’ He pointed a hand towards Eve. ‘And Danny…’ A man next door to her raised a hand grinning, foppish blonde hair falling into one eye, a thinner Boris Johnson.

  ‘Some of you will be continuing with where you left off but for those of you who want to start something from scratch, just follow my lead.’

  He got up and walked over to stand between her and Danny. Eve stared up at him from the wheel.

  ‘Eve, Danny, welcome. Normally I would spend some time teaching you how to get the air out of the clay but, today, why don’t you just dive in, get yourself excited about pottery.’

  ‘Sounds good,’ Danny said as Eve nodded.

  ‘I’ve already got the air out of these,’ he said, handing them both balls of clay. ‘So you just need to slap them down in the centre of the wheel and follow me. All right?’

  Eve nodded again, taking the cold, slippery ball of clay offered to her.

  Danny grinned at her as he took his. ‘Should be fun,’ he said, slapping his into the centre of the wheel with relish.

  Eve felt a warmth spread through her as she replied, ‘Damn right.’ Grinning, she slapped it down too.

  Raj was back at his wheel, dipping both his hands in the bowl of water on his left and pressing down on the pedal on his right. The wheel started rotating and he smiled over as Eve copied the action. ‘Lots of water, there you go. Now you need a good steady pace,’ he said, holding her gaze and making her foot slip momentarily from the pedal. She felt the water running through her fingers, the outside of the clay slippery to the touch. Raj added more water. ‘You need to get it really wet,’ he said. Eve noticed her breathing thicken. Get a hold of yourself, girl, he’s talking pottery not sex. Still, as her hands held the clay firm and she continued to press on the pedal, she could feel the heat steal up from her neck to her cheeks, warming her face as she worked.

  Everyone else seemed to be happily doing the same thing, apart from Mark and Aisha, who were both turning smaller lumps of clay, Aisha placing a finger on the top and watching as the clay spread out and away from her touch.

  Minutes passed and, gradually, Eve’s lump felt smoother and more rounded to the touch, the wheel spinning steadily, and she felt a momentary excitement that she was in the middle of making something all on her own.

  ‘Right, now start to gently encourage the clay up, squeezing gently with both hands into the middle to make it taller… Keep throwing water on it, Danny, or it will dry out and stick.’

  Eve pressed the clay evenly as she was told, watching it start to rise in her hands, an inch above them, thinner now so that, as heat prickled her face, she realised her clay was taking on a decidedly phallic shape. Danny was openly laughing next door and Eve found herself distracted, clay wobbling and slipping from the centre.

  Raj was standing above her then and she thought she might die as he looked down at her clay that was now definitely in the shape of a penis.

  ‘I, er… I think I pressed too hard.’

  Danny was chortling as he continued to press on his clay, a tall, neat cyclinder rising out of the centre of his wheel.

  ‘Not to worry,’ Raj said, bending to take a look. ‘It’s meant to look like that, well sort of, it should have better girth.’

  Danny lost it again and Eve bit her lip, darting her eyes over at him as he innocently pedalled away.

  ‘Let’s start again, shall we?’ Raj said, picking up the clay from her wheel, scraping it into a ball and pressing it all together again. ‘Try again and this time, keep it steady and don’t press too hard.’

  ‘Right.’ She nodded, determined to make it work this time. She pressed down on the pedal again.

  She lost track of time, working quietly to smooth and shape her cylinder. She wasn’t sure how long he had been there but she looked up to see a face pressed up against the glass to her right, staring at her as she smiled at her clay. The surprise caused her foot to release, her clay to wobble precariously and her thumb to press into it, creating a wobbling juddering lump.

  ‘Oh,’ she exclaimed looking around to see if anyone else had noticed. There was no face now, but she was certain that she had seen someone. A weathered man, in a flat cap, nose pressed against the glass. She blinked and stared at her clay, straightening as Raj came to stand over her.

  ‘All okay, Eve, that’s not a bad start, here.’ He encouraged her to press the pedal down and, wrapping his hands around hers, poured water on them. ‘That’s good, that’s the right pressure.’ He helped her to get the piece back into a perfect symmetry. She desperately tried not to think about that scene in Ghost, expecting Raj at any moment to whip off his shirt and seat himself behind her, feeling her face flaming again as she tried to focus on what he was saying. Eve, woman, get a grip on yourself.

  ‘That’s better. Now, what we’re going to do is draw it up carefully, just a little more. Good, that’s good. Okay, I’m going to take my hands away now, are you ready?’

  She tried not to look entirely deflated as he removed his hands and stood up again, Minnie calling over her shoulder, gaily poking her thumbs into her clay that still seemed to resemble a giant lump of nothing. ‘Raj, darling, what have I done? Why does it still look like a terribly deformed cock?’

  Danny made a sound next to her. Eve’s eyes widened. Raj flashed his smile and turned away from her, his well-oiled voice wafting around the room like a balm. ‘I’m sure it doesn’t,’ he soothed.

  ‘It’s like he has a dreadful disease…’

  Eve was working well, the lump starting to smooth out so that it had started to resemble a pot. That was the plan, she thought, a pot for pens would be an excellent starting point. Everyone needed somewhere for their pens.

  Then she felt something again, looked to her right: the face was back. This time she kept pumping the pedal but she found herself calling out to Minnie in front of her. ‘Minnie, um… there’s a man staring at us through the window.’

  Minnie huffed, ‘Not again,’ instantly removing her foot from the pedal, to get up and march across to the side door. Flinging it open, she called in an imperious voice, ‘Gerald, I have told you not to disrupt the class.’ Then she closed the door with a second huff and marched back across the room, all jangling bracelets and exhales.

  ‘Bloody husband.’

  Eve turned to see Danny, one eyebrow raised, clearly as confused as she was. Was this normal? Why was Minnie’s husband lurking outside the conservatory windows during the class? No one else had really reacted to this interruption, aside from Danny who shrugged his shoulders, blond hair falling in his eyes as he returned to his lump. She thought it was probably rude to ask but she was fired up with curiosity. Still, her lump of clay was looking so like an actual thing now from all the pressure she’d been applying that she didn’t want to lose control of things and returned to focusing on her clay.

  ‘Right now, Eve, Danny, you’re ready to push down into it. Keep hold of the sides like this; take it slow and keep it steady.’

  Eve enjoyed the gentle sound of the pedals, the splash of water and Minnie’s insistent muttering that everything she tried turned out the same shape. The room was warm, the heat seeped in from a crackling open fire in the living room next door and became trapped by the canopy of vines that Eve had since learnt would be grapes in the summer.

  Raj was helping the lovebi
rds with two napkin rings, Aisha resting her head on Mark’s shoulder as she listened to him. Eve felt a sharp stab of pain in her stomach. She would have rested like that unconsciously for years, a dip on Liam’s chest that seemed to fit her head perfectly, his aftershave tickling her nose as she breathed in.

  It had been a great hour in the class; she had loved meeting Minnie, Danny and Raj and couldn’t wait to come back but, as she waved goodbye, she felt an overwhelming loneliness. She left, skirting the house once more and down the path, the wind forcing her to wrap her arms around her body tightly, the sky awash with grey cloud, the early morning sunshine long gone.

  She turned right along the river, traipsing past roots in the ground, skirting brambles and patches of rainwater and churned-up mud, picturing how it had been with Liam, her draped over him in wordless bliss and him making a ball of his jacket, sticking a pillow under her head for her to rest on, a light kiss on her forehead. How could he have kissed her like that, with all that sweet affection, and do what he did to her? How could he have talked to her in his low-level voice, all the while knowing he had spoken to another woman in the same way?

  By the time she had reached the boat and Marmite’s wagging tail greeting her at the door, she felt filled with tears. Scooping him up and burying her face in his fur, she let herself cry for a moment in a hopeless, empty way. Marmite struggled, not happy with her returning mood and keen to get out and explore the surroundings once more. So with a weary ‘I’m coming,’ she deposited him on the bank, clambering over to watch him race around the grass, skipping and yapping at the air as if he didn’t have a care in the world. She felt her mouth lift a fraction as she watched him, smiled as he growled at a nearby crowd of ducks and then, taking a breath, trying to recall her mood in that conservatory, she raced after him, feeling her feet slapping on the grass as he looked about him, barking gleefully at his playmate.

  When they returned to the boat, it was clear there was a problem. Roaming up and down the bank like a sentry guard on duty was the largest, grubbiest goose Eve had ever seen. He had a filthy white belly, light-grey wings and dark markings up his neck. His beady eyes swivelled in his head as they approached. Marmite started to bark, racing forward, then thinking better of it, pausing, legs astride, his fur on end. The goose lifted both wings and hissed in their direction, his bright-orange beak letting out a terrible noise. Eve started, unused to geese anyway but definitely unsure how to react to one intent on being this unfriendly.

  He seemed hell-bent on stopping them getting up onto the boat and each time they moved closer, hissed another time. It was a stand-off, a strange confrontation, and Marmite looked up at her as if asking her what they should do. She found herself shrugging helplessly at him. She was as clueless as he was. She tried shooing, she tried darting in another direction, but the beady-eyed goose simply stood his ground, following them all the time in his gaze, heckles up the moment they neared.

  She felt as if an hour had passed when, with no warning, the goose set off in a half waddle, half soar, away from them and down the common.

  ‘Quick!’ Eve shouted, fumbling with the key, racing to the plastic flap and nearly smashing her shins as she stepped into the boat. She turned to lift up Marmite, who looked terrified to be left alone with the impending return of the goose. Allowing himself to be bundled into her arms, as her cold fingers searched for the lock, Marmite yapped at the common and Eve noticed with alarm that the goose was stalking BACK TOWARDS THEM with what she could only assume was a determined glint in his eye. She dropped the key.

  ‘Shit,’ she said, feeling her voice rise in panic. ‘Guard the boat, Marmite, guard it.’ Marmite was now running along the wooden deck away from the goose, under no illusions who was the tougher character and not planning to guard anything.

  With the key back in her grip, she opened the door. The goose was gaining on them, wings raised, wingspan intimidatingly wide, mouth open.

  ‘Marmite,’ Eve said desperately, hoping he could do something to deter their unwelcome visitor. But the moment there was a gap in the door, Marmite had raced back and dived on it, straight in, scurrying down the steps to the safety of inside. He wasn’t hanging about to take on a deadly goose. Eve quickly followed him, shutting the door behind her, leaving the goose outside their boat, mouth open, the sound of his hissing only just muffled as she turned the key in the lock with a decisive twist.

  ‘Is this absurd little experiment over now?’ On Skype, her mother peered down the lens at her; Eve could see every pore on her face.

  ‘Mum, you’re quite close to the lens.’

  ‘I was going for threatening.’

  ‘Well, you nailed it,’ Eve said, taking a sip of her tea and leaning back a little more. ‘Where’s Dad?’

  ‘Not sure. I last saw him at breakfast wearing a purple turtleneck and white jeans. He looked dreadful, like a pornographic sailor on leave, so I refused to let him sit down at the table and he took his breakfast into the living room.’

  ‘That’s not very nice.’

  ‘It’s the only way he’ll learn.’

  ‘Mum, you’ve been married nearly forty years, shouldn’t you just admit defeat on this one?’

  ‘Some of us believe in fighting on,’ she said pointedly, glaring down the lens again so that Eve hit the back of her head on the ledge of the porthole.

  ‘Ow.’ She rubbed at the patch. ‘So,’ she started, determined to get Mum back onto happier topics, ‘I started my pottery classes yesterday.’

  Mum tried to look disinterested, brushing an imaginary speck off her crisp white collar. ‘Oh, right.’

  ‘I really enjoyed it, Mum, I met some really nice people.’

  ‘Well, that is good,’ she admitted begrudgingly. Normally she would be firing questions Eve’s way. Who had she met? Were they related to anyone the family knew? Were they interesting? Did they have all their teeth? Eve smiled at her mum’s tight lips, pressed together firmly to ensure no stray questions sneaked out.

  ‘The woman who owns the house, Minnie, I think you’d like her.’ Eve wafted this nugget in front of her.

  Her mum looked ready to burst, eyebrows raised, nothing escaping her lips.

  ‘The house is spectacular, overlooking the river on the way to Purley.’

  Her mum couldn’t take it any more. ‘That was where the Lewises moved to. Do you remember the Lewises? Girl about your age? Always had very severe haircuts?’ She clamped up again after that last sentence, but the damage had been done and she knew it. She capitulated, allowing Eve to tell her more about the class, the conservatory, the other people in it, the rose-pink living room, the ivy creeping up the house.

  ‘Well, it all sounds lovely for a few days but, really, Eve,’ she said, edging closer to the screen, her eyes enormous as she swivelled them towards the lens, ‘you will be home for Christmas. This ridiculous jaunt is all very well and good, but you can’t stay there for ever.’

  ‘Mum,’ Eve sighed, feeling a wave of despair; ‘I told you, I don’t want to be reminded of it all.’

  ‘But he’s not here any more. He’s not even going to be around at Christmas, he…’ Her mum stopped abruptly, a hand lingering on her throat as if it were about to cover her mouth. Eve felt a prickle of confusion. How would her mum know that?

  ‘Have you heard from him?’ Eve asked slowly and carefully, her voice steady, but desperate to reach into Skype and shake her mum’s shoulders, shouting, ‘TELL ME EVERYTHING.’

  ‘Well, no, not exactly.’

  ‘So what exactly?’ Eve said slowly, determined not to let her mum squirm out of this one.

  ‘He was in Millets,’ she announced.

  ‘So you saw him? Did you talk to him?’

  ‘Well, it was hard not to really.’

  ‘Mum… what did you say?’

  ‘Well, he helped me, I had to say something…’ Mum raised both hands, appealing to Eve.

  ‘Helped you with what?’

  ‘A cagoul. I was taking it ba
ck for your father because he’d bought it in hot pink and I told him I would rather die than walk in the rain with him in it…’

  ‘And. Go on,’ Eve said, eyebrows lifting.

  ‘Well, I was swapping it at the counter and the man there was being most difficult because, of course, your father, being a completely hopeless individual, hadn’t thought to keep the receipt. Of course, the tags were still on and it was clearly never worn but the young man, whose attitude by the way I really didn’t like, was being very sniffy about the whole thing and then Liam was there talking to him, very kind really, and he helped convince the young man to allow me to part-exchange it.’

  ‘What was he doing there?’

  ‘Doing? He was holding walking boots.’

  ‘Walking boots. Liam doesn’t like walking.’

  ‘Well, he wasn’t wearing them, he was holding them. I wasn’t sure if he was planning to buy them.’

  Eve wanted to know everything. When had Liam taken up walking? He always complained about walks, always needed a ball to keep him entertained, like a dog. Eve thought savagely. She had always wanted to go for long walks with him, take in scenic views and have deep chats. Had he taken up walking? Had he just been holding the boots for no reason?

  ‘Was he with anyone?’

  Her mum paused a fraction so Eve pushed her again. ‘Mum?’

  ‘Possibly, I wasn’t sure. There was someone trying on a hat but she might not have been with him, I just thought I heard a laugh. It was odd actually because…’

  Her mum trailed off. Eve was gripping the cushioned seat in one hand, feeling hot, her palm sweaty. She licked at her lips. ‘What was odd?’ she asked, jumping on the sentence.

  ‘Odd?’

  ‘You said it was odd.’

  ‘Did I?’

  Her mum wasn’t looking at the lens any more, and Eve thought she could make out two spots of colour high on her mum’s cheeks, a sure sign she was lying, or had drunk more than two glasses of wine.