Christmas Shopaholic(36)

“Well,” says Jess after a pause. “I guess I can tell you without totally giving it away. Tom and I would very much like to give you each…a word.”

I stare at her, the wind taken out of my sails. A word?

“You mean, a wooden word that you put on the mantelpiece?” says Mum, looking puzzled.

“No, simply a word,” says Jess. “We will say the word aloud to you, and that will be our gift.”

“Gosh,” says Suze, clearly a bit stunned. “That’s…I’ve never…”

“Bit difficult to wrap up,” says Dad jovially.

“It will be wrapped in significance,” replies Jess without flickering, and Dad coughs.

“Of course it will!” he says.

“What word are you giving us?” I demand, finding my voice.

“That would give away the surprise,” says Jess. “We want to give each of you a different word, according to…” She looks around the table and hesitates. “Well, anyway. That’s what we want to do.”

I stare at her, intrigued. What word is she giving me? I’m desperate to know. It’d better be a nice word.

Oh God. It’d better not be “Visa bill.”

No, I’m OK. That’s two words.

“Hey, Bex,” says Suze in my ear, and I look up to see she’s come round to perch beside me, holding her coffee cup. “A word, huh?”

“I know,” I say with a tiny eye roll. “Trust Jess to win on the virtuous-present front.”

“Well, I was thinking. Shall we give each other zero-waste presents this year too? You know, instead of being hollow consumers and all that?”

Suze surveys me expectantly, and right away I wish I’d thought of it.

“Yes!” I agree enthusiastically. “Only, what? Not a word, because that’s copying Jess.”

“No. But maybe…” She thinks for a moment. “We could write a song for each other? And perform it as the present?”

“What?” I say in horror. “Suze, are you nuts?”

“Or we could make something out of found objects.” Suze’s eyes light up. “That could be fun.”

Fun? I’m trying to think of a tactful way to tell Suze that it sounds the least fun ever, when inspiration hits me.

“I know!” I say in excitement. “We’ll just give each other something that we already own. It’s green and it’s easy and the present will actually be a nice thing.”

“Oh my God!” exclaims Suze. “Brilliant idea, Bex!”

There’s a short silence. My mind is already roaming excitedly over Suze’s wardrobe. She’s got so many amazing clothes. What if she gives me her purple embroidered coat?

No. She wouldn’t. It’s too precious. But maybe she would…?

I suddenly notice the same distant look on Suze’s face.

“Suze, tell me what you’d like,” I say. “Whatever it is, it’s yours.”

“No!” she protests. “I’m not going to ask for anything. That’s not the Christmas spirit.”

“Just give me a hint,” I suggest.

“No! I’ll be delighted with anything you give me, Bex. Doesn’t matter what.”

But as she sips her coffee, her face is again preoccupied. What’s she thinking about? My new silver pumps. Or…no. My leopard-print bag?

Argh. This is impossible! Maybe I’ll give her more than one thing.

“Mango smoothie, soy latte, smashed avocado on sourdough…” A waiter interrupts us, and we all look up.

“I’d better get back to my seat,” says Suze. “Bon appétit!”

The waiter starts putting down drinks and plates, and I pick up my pen again. I’d better make a few more notes in my Christmas notebook, before I forget everything. I write down Suze present, stuffing, bread sauce, eco-crackers, eco-tree (NOT broom). Then I pause.

I don’t know how to make bread sauce, I realize. It’s always just appeared on the table in a jug, every Christmas. How do you make bread into a sauce? And where will I find an eco-tree?

I’m staring ahead with a furrowed brow when Luke pulls a chair up beside me.

“All OK?” he says.

“Fine!” I say automatically, but I’ve suddenly remembered pigs in blankets and scribble it down in my book. Then I write vegan pigs in blankets? Is that a thing? Without quite meaning to, I heave a great sigh—then look up to see Luke watching me.

“Becky,” he says in a low voice. “Don’t fret. None of this really matters. If we don’t manage to get hold of pigs in blankets, Christmas won’t collapse.”

“I know.” I give him a grateful smile. “Still, you know. I want everyone to be happy….”

“They will be,” he says firmly. “Minnie, poppet, can I borrow your book for a moment?”

He takes Minnie’s Grinch book and flips to the page where all the Whos are holding hands and singing, not caring that the Grinch has nicked all their stuff. I love that page.

“This is Christmas,” he says, pointing at the happy line of Whos. “Remember? Friends and family gathered together, celebrating. Not presents, not pi?atas, people.”

“I know, but—”