Christmas Shopaholic(14)

That evening I sit down on the sofa with my brand-new Christmas-planning notebook and pen. (Both from the Letherby leather range, 15 percent staff discount.) Minnie’s quietly playing with her tea set before bed, so I’ve got time to start on my master list.

I write down Christmas on the first page and look at it with satisfaction. There. Started. People get in such a flap about Christmas, and there’s no need. It’s simply a matter of itemizing the tasks you need to do, calmly completing them, and ticking them off. Exactly.

Briskly, I write down: Buy vegan turkey.

Then I stare at the page. Where am I going to find a vegan turkey?

OK, maybe I’m doing this wrong. Maybe what I need to start with is a very simple task, which I can accomplish straightaway. I write down Buy Luke’s present and open my laptop. I’ll order it in two minutes, tick it off, and I’ll be on the way.

I find the webpage for the coat and squint at the photos. It’s lovely. It’s perfect! It comes in navy and gray, I notice. Which would Luke prefer? I try to imagine him in the navy one…then the gray one…then the navy one again….

“Hi, sweetheart.” As I hear Luke’s voice, I put an arm across the screen, look up—and freeze. Luke’s standing in front of me, in exactly the same navy coat that’s on my screen. How did that happen? Did I somehow will it into being? Am I psychic? I suddenly feel like I’m in one of those films with tinkly wind chimes and weird stuff going on.

“Are you OK, Becky?” he says, surveying me curiously.

“Luke…” I falter. “Where did you get that coat?”

If he says, “But I’ve always had it, darling,” in a toneless voice, I will seriously freak out.

“I bought it today.” He swings it around. “Nice, isn’t it? I’ll take it to Madrid day after tomorrow.”

“You bought it today? But…”

My shock has been replaced by indignation. Luke bought it for himself? How could he? No one should ever buy anything for themselves in November or December, just in case.

“What?” says Luke, looking puzzled.

“That was going to be your Christmas present!” I say reproachfully. “You knew it was.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Yes, you did! We saw it in Hector Goode a month ago, remember?”

“Of course I remember.” Luke peers at me as though I’m mad. “That’s why I went back to buy it.”

“But I told you I was going to get it for you for Christmas!” I erupt in frustration. “You should have waited!”

“Becky, I remember our conversation very well,” says Luke calmly. “You didn’t mention Christmas presents once.”

Honestly. Luke is so literal. It’s a major character flaw of his, actually. I often tell him so.

“I was subtle! I said, ‘Well, maybe a little elf will get it for you!’ What did you think I meant by ‘a little elf’?”

“Look, Becky,” says Luke, clearly amused. “Don’t fret. This can still be my Christmas present. I love it. Thank you very much.” He drops a kiss on my head, then turns toward the door, but I’m not mollified.

“You can’t have your Christmas present in November,” I call after him. “You have to have something to open on Christmas Day.”

“Get me some aftershave,” says Luke over his shoulder.

Aftershave? Is he for real? Aftershave? Aftershave is the most unimaginative present for a man you could ever choose out of a Presents for Dad catalog full of golf tees and bad ties.

On the other hand…it’s quite easy.

I turn to my Christmas planner and, after Buy Luke’s present, I add, Aftershave. But I won’t get the same one he always uses, I decide as I write. Ha. I’ll get a fab new surprise aftershave.

Then I turn my attention to Minnie, who’s playing by the fireplace with her adorable little tea set. She’s handing out cups to all her teddies and pouring out “tea” from the dinky teapot.

“Minnie, poppet,” I say. “It’s going to be Christmas before too long, and maybe if you’re good, Father Christmas will bring you a present! What d’you think you would like?”

“I would like…” replies Minnie, still engrossed in her tea party, “a hamper. Please,” she adds as an afterthought. “Pleeeeeease, I want a hamper.”

I stare at her, puzzled. A hamper? Like…a Fortnum’s hamper full of smoked salmon? A laundry hamper?

Then my eye falls on the tea-set box, which advertises other products in the range. Of course! She’s been begging me for ages to buy the full picnic hamper with plastic glasses and napkins and pretend food. Well, that’s easy enough.

I quickly log on to the website where we got the tea set and search picnic hamper. It’s gorgeous, with a gingham lining and little knives and forks and even a sweet little vase of plastic flowers. There are only five left in stock, so thank God I asked her about this early enough. Plus my details are already stored on the site, so it takes me a minute to buy it. Done!

As the email arrives in my in-box—Confirmation of your order—I feel a jab of pride. I’ve started Christmas shopping! I grab my Christmas planner, write Get Minnie present, and tick it off. Ha! I’m so on top of things. I just need to continue like this, in a calm, orderly way.