Christmas Shopaholic(95)

“Exactly! That’s the problem! I tried mushrooms and cardboard. That didn’t work.”

There’s silence—then Steph exclaims, “Wait!” She plucks a packet of doughnuts out of her bag, peers at the label, then jabs her finger at it triumphantly. “Thought so. These are vegan. Use them!”

I follow her gaze and see a sticker printed with NEW RECIPE—NOW VEGAN!

“Doughnuts?” I say, bewildered. “I can’t make a vegan Christmas turkey out of doughnuts.”

“Why not? What’s wrong with doughnuts? Everyone loves doughnuts.” Steph starts giggling, and that sets me off—and for a moment neither of us can talk for hysterics.

“OK, I’ll do it,” I say at last, still snuffling. “I’ll do it. Why not?”

“And I’ll help,” says Steph. Her face is flushed from laughing and she looks more positive than I’ve seen her for ages. “I’ll come early tomorrow, and I’ll bring the doughnuts—and we’ll make the most kick-ass vegan doughnut turkey you’ve ever seen.”





As I wait for Steph to arrive the next morning, I actually feel buoyant. The house looks utterly Christmassy. The Christmas tree lights are twinkling and all my garlands are firmly in place and I’ve hung the pi?ata up in the sitting room.

I’m also wearing a brilliant Mrs. Santa outfit, which I spotted in the supermarket on my way out yesterday. It’s bright red with white fur and even has a little shoulder cape with a clever mobile-phone-sized pocket. Meanwhile, Minnie looks adorable in her Christmas sweater. It’s decorated all over with satin ribbons tied in bows, just like a gift.

“You are a gift,” I say, giving her a tight hug, whereupon she wriggles free and says, “Doughnuts?”

OK, so it was a mistake to tell Minnie about the doughnut turkey. She woke up at 5:00 A.M. and ran into the bedroom, demanding, “Doughnuts! Where are the doughnuts?”

“They’re coming!” I say. “Harvey and his mummy will be here soon.”

At that moment the doorbell rings, and there they are on the doorstep, both with festive sweaters and massive smiles and—oh, wow, is that a snowflake drifting through the air?

“I know!” says Steph, following my excited gaze. “Snow! Well…snow-ish,” she amends. “I’ve seen about five snowflakes.”

“Five is better than none!” I say. “Look, Minnie, snow! Snow at Christmas!”

The two children both peer obediently at the sky, and we all wait breathlessly…but it looks like the sky has shut up shop.

“Maybe the snow will come later,” I say at last. “You can go and play.”

“Nice costume, Mrs. Santa!” says Steph, as we go inside.

“What, this old thing?” I pluck at my red-and-white outfit with a grin. “I just, you know, threw it on.”

Soon I’m making coffee for Steph while she rips the packaging off what looks like a million packets of doughnuts. She’s also brought wooden skewers and cocktail sticks to fix them together.

“Happy Christmas,” she says, toasting her coffee cup with mine. “We’re going to nail this bastard.”

While Minnie and Harvey run around playing hide-and-seek, Steph and I start creating a doughnut construction, which it turns out is an incredibly calming and therapeutic activity. After we’ve used about forty doughnuts, we stand back to assess our work.

“It’s quite good,” I say, wanting to be positive. “Except it doesn’t look that much like a turkey.”

It doesn’t look anything like a turkey, is the truth. It could be the Easter Bunny or Mount Everest.

“It doesn’t look much like a turkey yet,” rejoins Steph. “But we haven’t done the finishing touches. Have you got any Play-Doh?”

Within about ten minutes, Steph has commandeered all Minnie’s Play-Doh and put the two children to work, rolling out shapes on the table. Soon she’s adding orange Play-Doh wings to the doughnut turkey. Then black claws. And then big googly eyes.

“Oh my God,” I say, staring at it in a mixture of horror and admiration. “It’s looking at me.”

“And a beak…” says Steph, carefully adding a big pointy red Play-Doh shape. “There. Behold—the vegan turkey!”

I must admit, it definitely looks like a turkey now. Or at least a bird. A creepy, freaky doughnut/Play-Doh bird that will probably give us all nightmares for life.

“Result!” I say, and lift my hand to high-five Steph. “You’ve got a new career if you want it.”

“Purveyor of vegan turkeys,” says Steph with a nod. “Yes, I think I’d do well.”

Her face is pink and there’s a piece of Play-Doh stuck to her cheek, and she looks like she’s having the time of her life. “What shall we call it, kids?” she adds.

“Peppa Pig,” suggests Harvey promptly, and I snort with laughter.

“OK, Peppa Pig it is,” I say. “Peppa Pig the vegan turkey.”

“Is this your one and only turkey for Christmas?” asks Steph, looking a bit concerned. “Or have you got a real one too?”

“We’ve got a real one too,” I say. “At least, we haven’t got it yet, but it’s coming at five P.M. today.”