by Hannah Tovey
There was one unfortunate incident, which nobody has dared mention since. Things unfolded when Anna unwrapped a pair of size-eighteen pyjamas from Mam. I watched Anna’s shoulders shudder as she looked at the size. Mam said she knew how much Anna was struggling to keep her weight down, what with all her pregnancy cravings. Anna went quiet, got up, and walked out of the room. Mam followed her and thus began a screaming match. Anna called Mam unsupportive, shallow and toxic. Mam called Anna oversensitive, uptight and lacking in sense of humour. In the hour they argued, Dad, Mark and I ate all the mince pies and went through a bottle of the fancy white. As is tradition, all was well – and all were drunk – by the afternoon.
‘I’m looking forward to finally meeting Scott,’ she said. ‘I hope he likes me. Jamie loved me.’
‘That right there. You can’t say things like that.’
‘I can’t say anything these days without upsetting you – or your sister.’
‘All I’m saying is, try to remember his name, OK? You can do whatever you like, but please, for the love of God, remember his name. It’s Scott. Not Jamie. Scott.’
‘I prefer the name Jamie.’
‘Mam—’
‘I’m aware his name is Scott, stop banging on about it.’
I got off the phone with her and rang Anna.
‘I think I’ve persuaded her to come here for Christmas,’ I said.
‘She’s not staying at my house.’
‘They’ll stay in the same hotel they did when they were last down.’
‘Mam didn’t like it there; she said the towels weren’t soft enough, and the shampoo had parabens in it.’
‘She can bring her own towels – and shampoo.’
‘Where will we eat?’
‘We can eat at yours or – at mine, I don’t mind. If we do it at mine you’ll have to bring the travel cot, but it’s up to you. I’m happy to cook; you won’t need to do anything.’
‘Thank you, Ivy. You’re by far my favourite these days.’
‘I know she can be a pain in the arse, but you’ve got to remember this is only her second Christmas without Gramps. She’s still grieving.’
‘That doesn’t explain why she’s being such a bitch to me.’
‘Please don’t call her a bitch, Anna.’
‘Sorry, I didn’t mean that.’
‘It’s my turn to give you some advice now.’
‘Christ, if you must.’
‘Have a proper, frank conversation with her about the cutting comments and the biting remarks. Tell her how they make you feel, instead of skirting around the subject.’
‘It’s easier not to say anything.’
‘Oh yeah, this has been really easy.’
‘No need for that tone.’
‘Do it for me, please? I want Christmas to be special this year. I want Scott to spend some time with you all and the last thing I want is for everyone to be arguing in front of him.’
‘We won’t argue.’
‘It’s all you’ve done so far this year.’
‘OK, you have a point.’
‘I’m going to go now. I need to run home and do some work.’
‘You’ve not been running for ages.’
‘I know, I’ve put on forty pounds. I need to start smoking again.’
‘You are smoking again.’
‘I’ve stopped, actually.’
‘How’s it going?’
‘Fine. I’m eating a lot of cakes. I came second on Bake Off last week.’
‘I meant the workload, you tit.’
‘It’s better; I’m learning to find balance.’
‘Aren’t we all.’
‘Do you prefer the name Jamie or Scott?’
‘Scott. Jamie is a shit name. Plus, he’s a twat.’
‘I knew I loved you. Now will you please ring Mam?’
‘Yes. Fuck off the phone then and I’ll ring her.’
I stared at the curvature of his neck as he spoke on the phone to his mother. There are three perfectly positioned moles at the base. I couldn’t take my eyes off them. I imagined taking his clothes off and running my fingers over his soft skin. He turned around and clocked me staring at him. He mouthed, ‘Are you OK?’ and I nodded.
‘I think we’ll be there about two,’ he said on the phone.
He looked at me for confirmation. I didn’t say anything, I just started taking off my clothes.
‘Mum, I’m going to have to ring you back, someone’s at the door. Yup, see you this afternoon. We’re looking forward to it.’
I unclipped my bra and let it drop to the floor. I pulled my knickers down and stepped away from them.
‘Ivy … ’
I walked to the sofa and kissed him. His mouth moved to my chest and he bit my nipple. I took his top off and pushed him back on the sofa as I took off his jeans and boxers. He was already hard. I climbed on top of him. His hand gripped my back as we moved in unison.
‘Where did you come from?’ he asked.
‘Same place you did.’
We met his mother in Muswell Hill. We were both nervous and she was a lot quieter than Scott had let on. I started talking a million miles an hour to fill the silence and for some reason felt it appropriate to tell her about the time I photocopied my boobs in the Art faculty staff room in Year 12.
‘It was quite rebellious of me,’ I said. ‘Not that I was a rebellious teenager, I wasn’t – I’m not. But a boy I fancied told me to do it, so I did. Not that I do everything everyone tells me to do – I don’t. We plastered them all over the school, too. I regret that. I really liked him. He had a pool in his house. And a games room. Come to think of it, they were quite wealthy. Not that wealth is important – it’s not. I did like the pool though. And there was always a good selection of snacks. Crisps. Salted nuts.’
Nobody spoke. I gripped Scott’s hand under the table. I was about to start talking about the variety of soft drinks in the mini fridge, when his mother started to speak.
‘I’ve never told you about the time me and your aunt Debby took LSD in your grandfather’s shed, have I?’
‘Sorry, what?’ Scott said. ‘You? You barely drink, you don’t smoke.’
‘People can surprise you.’
Scott was speechless.
‘I worshipped Debbie, she was so effortlessly cool. Do you know Marianne Faithfull, Ivy?’
‘Yes, my mum has her records.’
‘Well, my sister used to look like her. Can you imagine having a sister who looked like that?’
‘That doesn’t explain the LSD. Did Grandad catch you?’ Scott said. ‘My grandfather was a God-fearing man, Ivy. He drew faint pen lines on all his bottles of spirits, so he’d know if anyone had drunk from them.’
‘That’s the summer we went to Glastonbury,’ his mother said. ‘We couldn’t get tickets, but we ran away to Worthy Farm anyway. Debbie paid a guy a fiver to build a tunnel under the fence for us to climb under. Well, I paid him a fiver, Debbie paid him in other ways … ’
‘Please, stop,’ Scott said.
‘We got back home three days later. Your grandfather didn’t speak to us for a week.’
‘I cannot believe this,’ Scott said.
‘And you thought photocopying your breasts was bad, Ivy.’
I thought about the last conversation I’d had with Jamie’s mother, Cressida. She’d asked me if I wanted to come with her to watch Alan Titchmarsh’s keynote at Gardener’s World Live. I’d lied and said I was spending the weekend with Gramps. I hadn’t wanted to learn how to transform my outdoor space … especially as I didn’t even have an outdoor space.
What I did want was to go back in time to 1979 and take hallucinogenics in a shed with Scott’s mother.
34
Later that afternoon, we went to meet Dan, Mia and Noah in a pub in Kensal Green. It was festive drag bingo, and Dan’s alter ego, Lady Von-Titz Valley, was due to make an appearance. In classic Daniel fashion, however, he’d organised a stag at an underground
rave the night before and had turned up to rehearsal that morning gurning his face off after taking too much ecstasy. The director said that his jaw was all the way in Birmingham and refused to let him perform.
I had warned Scott about Dan. He’d just broken up with Alejandro again, which, along with the E, meant that his mood would be even more unpredictable than usual. He grabbed a chair and sidled up to Scott.
‘I’m so sorry you’re not going to see Lady Von-Titz tonight,’ Dan told him. ‘But on the positive side for me, at least I’m not going to wake up with an arsehole full of sequins.’
It was an education for Scott, at the very least.
‘What’s everyone’s vision for tonight?’ Dan asked.
‘Vision?’ Scott said.
‘He means what time do you want to stay out to,’ I said.
‘Oh, maybe one?’ Scott said.
‘One? No, Scott. That is not the vision.’
Dan scarpered to the bar and Mia leant over me to check that Scott was OK. She was still doing her best to make up for her special appearance at Sunday lunch.
‘You let me know if you need anything,’ she said, squeezing Scott’s knee.
‘I’m good,’ he said. ‘Thanks, Mia.’
‘A whisky, cigarette, someone to run their fingers through your hair … I’m here for you.’
‘Get a grip,’ I said to her.
Dan came back with shots of tequila for us all, terrified that unless he topped up on last night’s escapades, he would fall into an unending shame-hole.
‘They’ve put fucking Goldilocks on as my replacement,’ he said, banging the tray down on the table. ‘They know I hate that bitch.’
‘Dan, you turned up to rehearsal wasted at eleven this morning. What were they supposed to do?’ Noah said.
‘It wasn’t my fault!’
‘Someone forced the pills down you? Did they?’ I said.
‘When did you get on your high horse?’
Dan was livid now, much to Scott’s amusement.
‘You don’t know the pressure you come under as groomsman, and I was having an awful hair day.’
‘Christ, not this again—’
‘One of the groomsmen, and I won’t name names because his housemate is probably lurking around here somewhere, suggested we play crazy golf. Golf! On a Friday night. Who are these people?’
‘Crazy golf is quite fun,’ Scott said.
‘Fun? Ivy, I know he’s hot, but who is this guy?’
I gave Dan the finger.
‘I know he’s teetotal and all but that doesn’t mean we’ve got to do some shit activity just because he can’t hold his booze,’ Dan said.
‘He’s allergic to alcohol,’ Noah said. ‘He gets hives.’
‘It’s like being vegan,’ Dan said. ‘I’m fine with a person choosing to be vegan, but don’t keep banging on about that weird cartoon film you watched with Scarlett Johansson befriending the cow, like I’m supposed to give a shit.’
It took us a minute.
‘You mean the film with Tilda Swinton, and the pig?’ Scott said.
‘Whatever, I don’t care. I had no choice but to get on it.’
‘I think we should get on it tonight,’ Mia said.
Dan’s face lit up. ‘Yes! Mia, this is why I love you.’
‘Are you guys in, Ivy? Scott?’ she asked.
‘I’ve got an essay to write tomorrow, sorry.’
‘Me and Ivy will stick to hard liquor,’ Scott said. ‘And by hard liquor, I mean I’ll be in bed after five pints.’
‘Well, these two are useless,’ Dan said. ‘Noah, you in?’
‘I guess it is nearly Christmas,’ he said.
Dan flew out of his seat and went to ring his dealer.
I’d never seen a drag show like it. After the first, relatively conservative dance number, a man came on stage and pretended to masturbate on the EU flag. Then, after a sensational choral rendition of Bing Crosby and David Bowie’s ‘The Little Drummer Boy’, a one-legged woman appeared from the wings, stark naked aside from nipples tassels, and started to sing ‘God Save the Queen’.
‘This is the most shocking thing I’ve ever seen,’ I said.
‘It’s irony, darling,’ Dan said. ‘I can’t believe how much they’ve watered this down. I was expecting something much more political.’
After the final act, a choir came on stage, surprising the audience with a moving rendition of ‘Over the Rainbow’. For the first time that night, the crowd was quiet.
Scott put his arm around me and whispered into my ear. ‘Thank you for inviting me. I love your friends.’
‘Even Dan?’ I joked.
‘Even Dan. Though, don’t leave me alone with him for too long.’
I got shivers as he kissed my neck.
‘Have I told you that I love you today, Miss Edwards?’
‘Just the once.’
‘Well, I love you. I love you more than anything in this world.’
I looked at the sparkling green in his eyes and I knew. This was it.
‘I love you too, Scott.’
I closed my eyes and let him kiss every part of my face.
Dan came between us.
‘Get a fucking room,’ he said.
We danced until the early hours of the morning, to the cheesiest of Christmas hits, and told each other that this was the greatest night of our lives. At 3 a,m. Alejandro came flying through the doors, declaring his undying love for Dan, and they ran off together into the night.
Scott and I never left the dance floor. We just stood in amongst the ravers, grinning from ear to ear.
*
Mr Reid marched out of the room mumbling something about a broken sewing kit. Nancy didn’t like the star on her head, Primrose didn’t want to be a sheep, and Horatio was fuming about being a donkey. In my defence, I thought he was perfectly cast – his hair brought a pizazz to the role and his bushy eyebrows added a level of authenticity that was previously missing.
‘Miss!’ shouted Kitty, pointing to the cake. ‘Why’s Elsa’s hair all funny?’
‘I thought that’s how you wanted her hair to look?’
‘I wanted sea lions,’ Tarquin said.
‘Didn’t we agree that we would have a lion, not a sea lion?’
‘But I like sea lions. We have one in the garden.’
I saw Sammy put his finger in the icing of one of the cakes.
‘Sammy, please don’t do that,’ I said.
He looked right at me as he put his finger in his mouth.
‘It tastes like poo.’
‘I’d really appreciate it if you could stop making references to poo. You are well equipped to use other, more meaningful comparative examples.’
‘Miss, my wings keep falling off. They’re too big!’
My head was about to explode.
‘Please, can you all sit down – quietly – and get ready for assembly. There’s lots left to do, and we don’t want to be late for the nativity.’
Much to my surprise, the children sat down.
‘Thank you for listening,’ I said.
Mr Reid came back in the room, needle and thread in hand.
‘Gosh, you’re all sitting nicely. How lovely.’
‘Yup, all under control.’
I hadn’t quite appreciated the preparation that goes into a primary school nativity. There were hours of debate and discussions – should we include interpretive dance; how many narrators should we have; who’s in charge of music?
And then there were the parents: ‘Why is my son playing a pig, and not even the lead pig?’; ‘Why isn’t my little darling playing Mary? Surely, with her quiet maternal nature, she should’ve been picked for the role’; ‘Do you know how much we splashed out on extra singing lessons, and you’re telling me he’s a goat? This is ridiculous!’
No, this is a primary school nativity; what’s ridiculous is that I stayed up until 1 a.m. last night making five different cakes because it appears that my overal
l sense of personal value is inextricably linked to the success of my baked goods. Hence me playing Mary Berry to a bunch of stoners in secondary school.
I was roped in at the last minute to assist with the dance routine. I had initially asked Mia to help me with some basic choreography, but I decided to do things on my own after she sent me a video of her dressed as a scantily clad chorus girl. It was simple, elegant and, most importantly, age appropriate.
Words were forgotten, stage directions were missed, and costumes fell apart. Jesus was thrown off stage, an angel’s wing headbutted an audience member, and an entire song was sung in the wrong key. It was everything I expected it to be and more.
Afterwards, we had cake in the classroom with the parents. I watched Kitty’s mother boast about their upcoming holiday to Antigua and listened to Primrose’s father lament the fact that their second home in the Cotswolds had flooded. I was just thankful that my family had gone a whole twenty-four hours without having another row over what supermarket did the best Christmas canapé selection.
I surveyed the room as Nancy stood beside me, inhaling icing.
‘What do you want for Christmas?’ she asked me.
‘I want a solid eight hours’ sleep and a day with limited stress. What about you?’
‘I want a magic forest and a puppy and lots of chocolate.’
I laughed. ‘Anything else?’
‘I want a baby sister.’
I squeezed her body close to me.
‘Your mummy is very lucky to have you,’ I said.
‘Do you think Santa will give us a baby?’
‘I don’t know, Nancy, but if he doesn’t, it will be OK. Your parents love you very much, that’s what matters.’
‘What else do you want for Christmas, Miss?’
I thought I might like a new pair of everyday earrings. Nothing too fancy. I was considering whether I might go for something a more upmarket, like rose gold, when I saw Jamie through the window, smoking by the fire exit. I’d recognise that cashmere coat from a mile off.
‘Nancy, I need to go outside for a minute. You stay in here with everyone, OK?’
She wasn’t listening; she was too busy wiping cake on her dress.