Christmas Shopaholic(5)

As we pull up in front of Suze’s massive front door, Minnie starts wriggling with excitement. She loves having sleepovers with Suze’s children so much, I almost get offended. I mean, what’s wrong with home?

“Wilfie!” she’s already yelling, as he appears in the drive. “Wilfie! I’m here, I’m here! Let’s play monter tucks!”

“Monter tucks” is Minnie-talk for “monster trucks.” Minnie, Wilfie, and Wilfie’s twin, Clemmie, spend hours happily running monster trucks up and down the endless corridors of Letherby Hall. I’ve even bought Minnie her own truck to keep there.

I’ve also made sure to mention this fact when I write emails to Jess, who’s living in Chile at the moment. Jess and her husband have applied to adopt a child, rather than add to the world’s population problem, and meanwhile Jess is always lecturing me about bringing up Minnie in a gender-neutral way and sending me books called things like The Zero-Carbon Child.

So last week I wrote her an email—I’m really encouraging Minnie in non-gender-aligned play—and attached a photo of Minnie clutching a truck, wearing a pair of Wilfie’s jeans. (She’d fallen in the mud and had to change out of her frilly skirt.) Jess wrote back: That’s sound thinking, Becky, we have to fight the sexist stereotypes, but couldn’t you find trucks crafted from sustainable wood?

I haven’t got back to her about that yet. (I did ask Luke if he could whittle a monster truck for Minnie out of sustainable wood, and he just looked at me.)

Nor have I mentioned to Jess Minnie’s massive collection of dolls and sparkly fairy wings or the way she begs to wear a pink dress every day. Because you don’t have to tell your frugal, vegan, principled sister everything, do you?

I just manage to kiss Minnie goodbye before she hurtles into the house with Wilfie, carrying her little backpack with all her overnight stuff. Next moment, Suze arrives in the drive, wearing yoga leggings and a sweatshirt, her blond hair piled up and secured with a bulldog clip.

“I’ll make sure Minnie’s OK,” says Luke, heading into the house.

“Thanks so much for having her, Suze,” I say as I hug her.

“Anytime!” says Suze. “And give my love to your parents.”

“Of course.” I pause before adding casually, “Hey, Suze. You know how you have that sculpture park bit in the garden here?”

I’ve suddenly remembered the North Lawn at Letherby Hall, which is littered with metal orbs and carved bits of stone and stuff. It’s open to the public and has loads of room in it and is the perfect solution.

“Yes?” Suze looks a bit surprised. “What about it?”

“Well, I wondered if you’d like an art donation?”

“An art donation?” She stares at me.

“Yes, two statues. Very avant-garde,” I add carelessly. “If you can transport them, then you have them for free.”

“Statues?” Suze peers at me in bewilderment—then her face suddenly changes. “Not those two monstrosities in your hall.”

Drat. I didn’t think she’d seen them.

“They’re not monstrosities,” I say defensively. “They’re art. When did you see them, anyway?”

“When I dropped Minnie back home the other day. Bex, they’re vile. Why on earth did you buy them?”

“Because they’re made by a very deserving youth group,” I say loftily. “And I think they have artistic merit, actually.”

“Well, good for you,” says Suze. “I hope you enjoy them. Although if you think they’re so great, why is there a bag over the head of one of them?”

Oh God. I can’t keep up the pretense any longer.

“Suze, please have them,” I beg in a rush. “You’ve got so much room. You could hide them behind a tree, and no one would even see them.”

“No way.” Suze folds her arms. “Just send them back.”

Honestly. Wasn’t she listening?

“I can’t send them back! They were made by a youth group!”

“Well, give them to someone else.”

“Who?” I say desperately.

“Dunno.” Suze shrugs. “But they’re not coming here.”

I’m about to plead their case further when Luke appears out of the house.

“All set?” he says to me.

“What are you wearing?” says Suze, glancing at my navy satin legs. “Is that a new pair of trousers?”

“Jumpsuit,” I say smugly.

“Ooh, I want one of those!” says Suze at once. “Show me!”

I automatically start unbuttoning my coat—then pause.

“It’s a bit…adventurous.”

“Great!” Suze gestures at me to carry on unbuttoning, but my fingers don’t move. For some reason, I’m feeling apprehensive at revealing my whole outfit.

“I mean, it’s quite out there,” I add, playing for time.

“Sounds fab!” says Suze enthusiastically. “Go on, Bex, show me!”

Even Luke is looking interested now.

Ribs are the new cleavage, I remind myself. Then, almost defiantly, I throw open my coat and say, “Ta-daah!”

I feel the November evening air on my chest and silently thank God for my silicone stick-on “mini bra replacements,” although if either of them falls to the floor I will die.