Christmas Shopaholic(53)

How does it work, anyway? Like, what are the logistics? I’m quite tempted to google sex parties what actually happens, only Luke might walk in and get the wrong idea. In fact, here is Luke, coming into the kitchen. Should I mention it to him?

No, because it sounds crazy. It is crazy.

“How’s it going?” He surveys the ocean of dark blue silk filling the table. “Looks good.”

“Oh, right.” I force my attention back to Minnie’s costume. “It’s going pretty well. Thanks!”

I don’t want to boast, but I’ve chosen fabulous material for Minnie’s costume. It’s the most sumptuous midnight-blue silk, embossed with gold spots. And, OK, it wasn’t the cheapest option—but then how often is your little girl a king in the school Nativity? I bought some gold velvet ribbon, too, and sequins. Minnie’s going to look spectacular.

“Just cutting out the pattern,” I add briskly, picking my scissors back up and trying to sound like a sewing expert. I won’t mention that I’m cutting it out for the second time. Total disaster first time round—but I bought some pins this time. They’re so nifty! Someone should have told me about them before. And at least I had plenty of spare material. (I got a bit carried away in the fabric shop and thought maybe I’d make a matching dress for myself. Which is looking a tad less likely, to be honest.)

“I’m going to make a coffee to go,” says Luke. “You want one?”

“Yes, please,” I say absently as I resume cutting. I love the metallic sound the scissors make as they slice through the material. It makes me feel like a pro. I work carefully round the curve of the sleeve, then look up to see Luke watching me, a fond expression in his eyes.

“What?” I say.

“Nothing. Just, lucky Minnie.”

“Oh,” I say, feeling a tiny glow inside. “Well, you know. I want her to have the best costume she can. Although she might not be lucky,” I add honestly. “It might be a disaster. I’m not exactly brilliant at all this craft stuff. Not like Suze.” I can’t help a gusty sigh. “You should see the stuff she makes—”

“Becky.” Luke cuts me off firmly. “You’re you. Other people are other people. This is going to be an awesome costume, and Minnie’s going to be an awesome king. Has she got any lines to learn?” he adds with sudden interest. “Should we be practicing?”

“No,” I say with a giggle. “They have to make it up. Miss Lucas is into improvisation. She thinks it makes the children creative.”

“Improvisation?” Luke raises his eyebrows. “Isn’t that a high-risk strategy at that age?”

“You’d think. Apparently at the last rehearsal one of the shepherds told his sheep to hurry up or he’d wallop him.”

Luke laughs. “Well, rather Miss Lucas than me.”

He puts a coffee in front of me, picks up his own takeaway cup (bamboo, present from Jess), and kisses me. “Have fun at the Christmas fair today.”

“I will!”

I watch Luke leaving, and when he’s almost through the door I say impulsively, “Hey, Luke. You know Craig and Nadine?”

“Yes?” He turns back and I hesitate, not sure how to continue. What I really want to say is, “D’you think they want a foursome with us in their hot tub?”

But I can’t. I mean, it’s ridiculous.

“Nothing,” I say at last. “Just…It was nice hanging out with them.”

“Yes.” He nods. “It was fun. See you later.”



* * *



—

The Christmas Style Fair is being held at Olympia, and as I travel there I give myself a stern talking-to. I’ve been spending too much time thinking about Craig and sex parties and hot tubs. It’s all nonsense and it’s distracting me from the issue at hand, which is that I’m hosting Christmas. And it’s only a month away now. I need to focus.

On the tube, I leaf through another Christmas magazine to reassure myself—but it does the opposite. It keeps asking tricky questions I can’t answer, like, Why not make lace-printed paper chains? and Why not fill a Scandinavian dresser with festive crockery, ready to greet your guests?

I’m already googling Scandinavian dresser delivery before Xmas, before I realize that we don’t have room for a Scandinavian dresser, nor am I ever going to persuade Luke we need three life-sized stuffed reindeer to stand in front of it, like in the photo spread. I must stay down-to-earth, I tell myself firmly. Be realistic and practical and think about what I need.

And, yes, OK, I know Christmas is about family and friends—but it turns out my family and friends are quite demanding. Janice keeps asking me what my “table theme” is, and I keep dithering. Should I go Scandi? Modern metallic? Highland tartan? Every time I turn a page of a magazine and see a new photo, I think, Ooh, that looks nice, and change my mind.

Anyway, I’ve got a list, which begins Tablecloth, napkins, candles. I’ve decided I’m going to pick a theme today and stick to it. I’m not going to get distracted, and I’m not going to make pointless purchases that I don’t need. Exactly.

But oh God. As I step into the massive hall, I can’t help feeling dazzled by the sheer…festiveness. There are stalls as far as the eye can see, all decked out with decorations. There are gifts and garlands and baubles and puddings, and already people are milling everywhere with a contagious sense of urgency. I text Janice to say, Let’s meet in row A, then plunge into the mêlée, feeling breathless with excitement.