Christmas Shopaholic(109)

We’ve served champagne, Baileys, sweet sherry, festive mojitos, and organic kombucha (Jess). I’ve passed around a selection of canapés, consisting of smoked salmon on bread, smoked salmon on crackers, smoked salmon on blini, and smoked salmon on cocktail sticks.

And now it’s time for our big turkey lunch, and I feel…what do I feel?

“I feel sprygge,” I say, realizing it only as Suze comes into the kitchen. “Totally, utterly sprygge.”

“Me too,” says Suze in heartfelt tones. “You know, we thought you’d been kidnapped last night! I think my heart’s only just stopped juddering.”

I tuck tinfoil round the turkey like Mary Berry says to do, and say, “OK, it’s resting,” in my most knowledgeable Christmas-hostess manner. (I’m not sure what this whole “resting” thing is, actually, but I would trust Mary Berry with my life.)

“How many kinds of stuffing are you doing?” asks Suze, peering into the oven.

“Three. Plus spicy falafels,” I add, pointing at the top baking tray.

“Spicy falafels?” Suze stares at me.

“Everyone likes spicy falafels for Christmas,” I say defensively. “And they’re ethical. Come on, time for some presents.”

“Well, the turkey looks wonderful, Bex,” says Suze as we head out of the kitchen, back to the sitting room. “It all looks wonderful. Thank God for Steph!”

Because it was Steph who saved the day on the turkey front. When we finally got back home from the pet shop, all feeling a bit hysterical (and bruised in my case, because being hauled out of a narrow skylight isn’t as much fun as you would think), there she was. Sitting on the front doorstep. With the massive turkey next to her and Minnie’s costume on her lap.

“I took delivery!” she called out as we came in the garden gate. “Don’t worry, no substitutions!”

“Steph!” I exclaimed, feeling staggered. “You’re amazing! Thank you so much! But…your family…”

“It was the least I could do,” said Steph. “Luke called to say you were missing and ask if I’d heard from you. He said he was heading out to find you—and I thought, ‘Well, at any rate I can make sure they get their turkey.’ So I came straight round. My mum agreed I should. She’s…we’re all grateful to you, Becky.”

“Bex, why is Steph Richards at your house?” said Suze, looking bewildered. “What’s she talking about?” And for a moment I didn’t know how I was going to explain our friendship without giving too much away. But I needn’t have worried, because as we got near, Steph stood up and said resolutely, “Hi, Suze. I don’t know if Becky’s mentioned it, but my husband’s just left me.”

“Oh,” said Suze, looking taken aback. “Right. No. I had no idea. I’m so sorry to hear that.”

“Well, I was keeping it secret,” said Steph. “But I’m not anymore. Anyway, Becky’s been kind of a rock in recent weeks, so I’m glad I could give something back.” Then she held out the blue silk costume and added, “Minnie should wear this for Christmas Day. It’s hers. You made it, Becky. You should enjoy it.” Whereupon Suze’s eyes got even wider and she said, “That’s Minnie’s? But, Bex—”

So it all had to be explained. Whereupon Suze said she knew I must have made a better costume than that Denny and George one. But then she instantly backtracked, in case I was offended, and started saying how, actually, in many ways she preferred the Denny and George one and it was terribly imaginative.

At last Steph said she’d better go, but she gave me a tight hug and said in my ear, “Let’s have happy Christmases, shall we?” And as she drew away, for the first time she looked as if she actually might.

As for me, I’m having the happiest Christmas I can remember, despite the fact that all the snow has vanished. (Typical.) Carols are playing. The food smells sensational. Minnie is in seventh heaven. Mum and Janice are best friends again, and Mum’s even wearing one of Janice’s old two-pieces, with a tinsel necklace. She said over a Buck’s Fizz this morning, “We do enjoy Shoreditch, love. Like you enjoy a holiday. But it’s not…” and she bashed her heart. She didn’t say any more, but I think I knew what she meant.

Although, having said that, Janice has mentioned about a hundred times how keen she is to start visiting Mum more and going to “workshops and events” and “Maybe Martin and I will look at an apartment in Shoreditch too!” So I have no idea how that might pan out. As for Flo, the subject hasn’t even been mentioned. It’s as though she never existed.

The star of the show, of course, is Santiago. We’re all pretending to be interested in one another’s stories and jokes, but, really, no one can keep their eyes off him. Right now he’s playing with all the others in some new game of Clemmie’s involving pictures of hats. And the other children are being so sweet and careful to include him that it melts my heart.

“He’s amazing,” I say to Jess every five minutes, because he is. He really is.

He’s also the most ethically dressed child I’ve ever seen, in bamboo and recycled cotton and vegan leather shoes. Plus he’s been the only child to show any interest in my eco-tree, so he gets extra points, unlike my godson, Ernest, who just said flatly, “What’s that? Shall I take it to recycling?” To be fair, it’s not the most impressive sight. It’s a branch from the garden decorated with three spoons. But Santiago stroked the spoons and smiled—he’s got the most ravishing smile—and I could tell, as Jess watched him, she’s absolutely besotted.