Christmas Shopaholic(94)

“My apologies, sir. I can tell you don’t want to participate in our study, so I’ll leave you in peace. Just one more piece of information…” I add in my most helpful manner. “Incontinence aids are on special offer this week, if that’s of interest to you?”

Before he can draw breath, I hastily walk around the corner, rip off the fleece and glasses, and undo my hair—then sprint to where I left my trolley. By the time I glimpse Damian and Ms. Pinchy Face appearing from the aisle, I’m a shopper with a trolley again, looking firmly the other way.

“I mean, it was quite funny, babe,” Ms. Pinchy Face is saying in mollifying tones. “I think it was an honest mistake.” At once I feel an inward giggle. It wasn’t just funny, it was bloody hilarious, and I wish Steph had been there to see it.

I walk briskly round the whole store, but I can’t see any vegan turkeys and I don’t want to miss Steph. So as soon as I’m sure that Damian and Ms. Pinchy Face have left, I pay for my shopping, head for the café, and wave at her as I’m queuing for a cup of tea.

“Hi! Becky!” Her face lights up, and she waves back. “Come and join me.”

As I head to Steph’s table, I’m relieved to see that she looks a lot more cheerful than she did before.

“Christmas shopping?” I say, nodding at her bags, and she grimaces.

“Kind of. I mean, it’s only Harvey and me, and Harvey’s not wild about turkey. I’m definitely not cooking a whole turkey for myself, so…” She shrugs. “We’ll be having sausages.”

“Cool!” I say, although the picture of Steph and Harvey on Christmas Day, just the two of them, makes my heart contract. “You couldn’t get together with your family?” I venture.

“Too far. Mum’s in Leeds. And work’s manic at the moment. I’ve got to go in today, even though I’m supposed to have the day off.”

“On a Saturday?” I make a face.

“I know,” she says resignedly. “I nipped in here to stock up. Harvey’s at the babysitter’s for the day.”

“Have you told your mum about Damian yet?” I ask, even though this is none of my business.

“Not yet,” says Steph after a pause, and I bite my lip. Because it’s not for me to tell her what to do. But it’s Christmas. And her family doesn’t even know she’s on her own.

“If I were your mum, I’d want to know,” I venture, and I see something flicker across Steph’s face. Then I worry that I’ve overstepped the mark, so I quickly add, “Did I see Damian just now?”

“Yes.” Steph’s face falls. “With her.”

“I thought she looked really ugly,” I say seriously, and Steph bursts out laughing.

“Becky, you’re deluded.”

“I’m not. She’s gross.”

“She’s about twenty-three and she’s stunning. Did you see her hair? Did you see her bum?”

I want to say, “No, Damian’s big fat hand was in the way,” but that would be unhelpful. Instead, I decide to change the subject.

“Harvey was amazing in the play,” I say. “He’s got such a gorgeous smile!”

“Oh, was he?” A wistful light comes over Steph’s face. “I couldn’t go. I’ve taken too much time off work recently. But there’ll be a DVD, won’t there?”

I stare at her, stricken. She didn’t even go. And there I was, feeling sorry for myself because I didn’t see Minnie in my costume.

“Steph, what are you doing tomorrow?” I ask on impulse. “Would you and Harvey like to come to a gingerbread-house-making party?”

“Really?” Her face brightens. “We’d love to!”

“Great!” I say. “I’ll text you the details. We’re wearing Christmas sweaters and making gingerbread houses and…well, that’s it.”

“Is it a family tradition?”

“Not exactly. It’s…a new tradition.”

I won’t add, “Which I’ve invented to reconcile my warring Christmas guests.”

“It’s really kind of you to include us.” Steph suddenly reaches across the plastic table and clasps my hand. “Thanks, Becky. For everything. Can I bring something tomorrow?”

“Nothing,” I say. “Just yourselves.”

Steph shakes her head firmly. “People always say that, but there must be something. What’s the thing you most want right now? And not world peace.”

“A vegan turkey,” I say honestly. “If you’ve got one of those, I’d be super grateful.”

Steph stares at me in surprise. “Are you vegan?”

“No, but my sister is,” I explain. “And I ordered her a vegan turkey. But they canceled, so I thought I’d make one….” I relate the whole sorry story, and by the time I get to the painted loo rolls, Steph is laughing so hard she spurts tea out her nose.

“What are you like?” she says. “Just serve risotto like the woman said! Have an easy life!”

“I don’t want to have an easy life,” I say stubbornly. “I want to serve a vegan turkey.”

“Well, then, make it out of…” Steph casts around. “What can you make a turkey out of?”