Queenie(43)

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It was my second Christmas with Tom’s family. The novelty of a proper Christmas meal had worn off after last year, but I was still surprised by how many trimmings there were and that pork wasn’t just allowed in the house, but was allowed to be wrapped in another form of pork and eaten in one bite-size go.

“Now, here’s what we should do,” Tom’s aunt said. “We’re going to play a game. Found it in the attic.” She blew dust off of a board game and placed it on the coffee table in the middle of the room.

“Oh, I love a Christmas game!” Tom’s mum said. “Let me go and get some pens and paper. You can take score, can’t you, Stephen?” she said to her brother.

“Yes indeed.” He inched forward in his seat and hitched his trousers up at the knees. “We’ll need to get into teams, though,” he said, looking around the room.

I looked over at Tom to signal that we’d be teammates, but he was deep in conversation with his brother.

“How will we split this? I think . . .” Stephen said slowly, “that we should do dark shirts versus light shirts.” My heartbeat started to quicken. “What does everyone think?”

“Great!” Tom’s dad said, looking down at his white shirt. “That’s easy enough!”

I looked down at my white dress. “I’ll be with you, then,” I said, getting up to sit next to him.

“Mmm, not so fast, Queenie!” Stephen said. I felt my cheeks flush with heat. “Maybe you should keep score.” He smirked.

“I’m wearing a white dress,” I said, my voice very small.

“But technically there’s a bit more dark on you.” He laughed, looking around the room in the hope that everyone would join in.

“She’ll be on my team, Stephen,” Tom’s dad said, flashing me a consolatory smile.

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chapter


ELEVEN


WHAT WAS IT about Christmastime and couples? It was making me completely miserable. Admittedly I was at a Hanukkah party, but the Christmas sentiment still stood. Everyone in this gigantic Islington townhouse was in a pair but me. And Cassandra. Saying that, they were all over fifty, so they’d had a bit of a head start to find someone, and half of them were on their second marriages.

Cassandra’s dad, the only adult man I’d ever trusted and also probably the actual main reason I endured Cassandra, asked me where Tom was every time he flitted past, tray in hand, and he finally stood still long enough for me to say, “We went on a break, Jacob. In October. But he won’t speak to me. He said he needed three months, but I think he needs more time. In your experience, how long are these things meant to last?” When Jacob looked at me in surprise, I removed the toothpick that I’d been chewing on from my mouth and spiked an olive with it angrily.

“Oh, you poor, poor dear. And how are you feeling?” Jacob abandoned his serving duties and sat down next to me, putting a hand on my shoulder. All of the couples in the room turned to look at me.

“I feel lost. And confused,” I said quietly. “I thought that after a week without me, he’d be banging down my door.” I popped the olive into my mouth and turned to Cassandra on the other side of me, waiting for her to weigh in. She may as well not have been in the room because her eyes darted toward the door every three seconds as she waited for this new demigod boyfriend to get here.

“It’ll work itself out if it’s meant to,” Jacob said softly. “Oho! I think something is burning!” He jumped up and left the room, heading toward the kitchen.

“Hello? Cassandra?” I waved my hands in my friend’s face. “Remember me? You invited me here because we’ve been close for many years, and coming to Hanukkah is a tradition? You could actually talk to me!”

“I’m nervous, Queenie,” Cassandra said to me, folding and then unfolding her arms. “This is the first time that I’ve had a boyfriend long enough for him to meet the whole family, and you know what my family are like. All neurotic and flappy.” She stood up and smoothed the back of her dress. “How does it look?”

“Sounds like my family. Your bum?” I asked. “Fine? Nice, even.”

“No, Queenie, my dress. He bought it for me, and I want to check that it’s okay.” I inspected the item in question, a barely describable plain black pinafore.

“Cassandra, are you losing your mind?” I asked, pulling her back down by the arm. “You look great, but it shouldn’t matter anyway. Calm down. He’ll get here and he’ll love what you’re wearing. Even if it is because he bought it. Which I think is weird.” I lowered my voice before I asked my next question. “Have you even had sex yet?” Cassandra jumped up as though I’d thrown a bomb under her bottom. All of the adults stopped talking and turned to look at us.

“We’re just going to get a drink!” she announced to the room, and pulled me into the kitchen. Jacob passed us on the way out, the tray seemingly attached to his hand now filled with steaming mini sausage rolls.

“Pork!” he said, tutting. “We’re terrible Jews, I know.” He groaned.

“Can you not talk about my relationship so crudely, Queenie?” Cassandra whispered, placing her phone face upward on the marble counter. “Things are going so well for me for the first time in ages, and, it’s not about sex, it’s about me getting to know someone, the connection.”