Christmas Shopaholic(96)

And if they substitute thirty jars of turkey paste, I add to myself, I will literally murder someone.

I carefully move the turkey to the counter and cover it with a cardboard box so that none of the guests will see it. Then I start laying out gingerbread kits all round the kitchen table. I can see the odd snowflake out of the window, and suddenly I do feel like I’m in a Christmas movie. God bless us every one. All that. Surely my guests will feel the same?

There are still a few minutes till everyone’s due to arrive, so I make some more coffee and pile some leftover doughnuts onto a plate. Then I adjourn with Steph to the sitting room, while Harvey and Minnie start pushing monster trucks up and down the hall.

“So, let me fill you in on who’s coming today,” I begin. “There’s Suze and Tarkie and their three, who you already know. There’s my parents and their neighbors Janice and Martin. And there’s my sister, Jess, plus her husband, Tom, if he’s made it back from Chile. He’s also the son of Janice and Martin,” I add. “That’s how Jess and Tom met.”

“Wow,” says Steph, taking all this in. “So you’re a pretty close-knit group.”

“I suppose so.” I nod.

“Nice big Christmas table.” She smiles.

“It will be.” I lean forward impulsively. “Steph, please come too. You and Harvey. Come here for Christmas. There’s plenty of room, we’d all love to see you—”

I break off as Steph shakes her head, smiling.

“Becky, you’re very sweet,” she says, “and I appreciate the offer…but I’m fine.” Her face suddenly shines. “My parents and my sister are coming down. They’ll be here later. They’re bringing a turkey and we’re all having Christmas together.”

“What?” I stare at her in delight. “That’s fantastic!”

“I know.” Steph pauses, then adds in a lower voice, “I told them about Damian. After what you said yesterday. I went home and I called Mum straightaway and…” Her eyes fill with tears and for a moment she can’t speak. “I don’t know why I didn’t tell them before,” she manages at last. “It was stupid.”

“Because it’s hard,” I say, understanding. “Telling your family when you’re in trouble is really hard.”

“It’s the hardest.” She nods. “You just don’t want to admit it. I kept thinking, If I don’t hear it said aloud, maybe it’s not true.”

“Oh, Steph.” I bite my lip.

“But the minute it was out, I felt better. I felt stronger.” Steph sips her coffee. “So, anyway, we’ll be doing our own thing tomorrow. I’m glad I’ll get to meet your family today, though. They sound great.”

“They are,” I say, a bit distracted, because Steph’s words have struck home. She’s confided in me so much—and now I want to confide in her.

“You know my sister, Jess?” I say cautiously. “The vegan one? I think she might be having problems in her marriage too. But she won’t say anything either. She’s a very private person and she clams up. It’s hard when you want to help her.”

“Just be patient,” says Steph, nodding sympathetically. “If she’s anything like me, she probably feels really vulnerable. I felt so ashamed that Damian had left.”

“Ashamed?” I say, appalled. “Steph, he should be ashamed, not you!”

“I know.” She gives an abashed smile. “It’s not rational. But you want things to work, don’t you? And you blame yourself if they don’t. I’m sorry to hear about your sister,” she adds. “That’s tough.”

“I know. So I was wondering…maybe if you get a chance while you’re making the gingerbread houses, could you talk to her? Really discreetly?”

“Of course I will,” says Steph. “I don’t have any answers, but I sure as hell understand the problems. What time’s everyone arriving, by the way?”

“Oh,” I say, glancing at my watch. “Actually, I was expecting them by now.” And I’m about to get out my phone to see if I’ve missed any messages, when the sound of a text forestalls me. I take my phone from my pocket and find a new message from Jess.

Dear Becky,

Sorry, but I won’t be coming either today or tomorrow, for personal reasons. I’m sorry if you have gone to a lot of trouble.

Happy Christmas,

Jess (and Tom)



What?

She…What?

I almost can’t breathe for disbelief. I’ve spent all morning making a vegan turkey for Jess—and she’s not coming? She’s not coming?

“Becky!” says Steph in alarm. “What’s happened? Are you OK?”

“Not really,” I say, trying to smile but utterly failing. “No. I’m not really OK. You know my sister, who I just mentioned? The one we’ve been making the vegan turkey for? Well, she’s pulled out. She’s not coming today or tomorrow. No warning. No good excuse. Just ‘personal reasons.’?”

Steph’s hand flies to her mouth and she’s silent for a few moments. “Is she normally the flaky type?” she asks at last.

“No! She’s totally unflaky! She’s solid. She’s…she’s granite. She never lets anyone down, ever.”