Guess Who's Coming to Christmas Dinner (3 page)

Chapter
Four

The trouble with Christmas, Sophie thought crossly as she walked to work the following day, was it sort of rushed up at you out of nowhere. One day you were in November and quite happily kicking leaves in the park, worrying about all the pets that would hate bonfire night and the incredibly loud fireworks, and the next minute it was just days before the main event and you weren’t prepared. Well, of course some people were. Sophie thought of Lynne, the mum she’d met through Bella at Nursery. Lynne had been prepared since August probably. Lynne had mousy hair cut into a savage bob, and a no nonsense approach to make up. She had a kind heart and although she undermined Sophie’s fragile confidence sometimes, she was at least someone to talk to about Christmas, as she too was a single mum.

“I
bought all of Nathan’s presents last year in the January sales,” Lynne said rather smugly, wiping Nathan’s mouth with a tissue after they had all had an ice cream together in her immaculately manicured patio. Regiments of pots with red geraniums had been grouped together in an eye wateringly bright array. Then Lynne had said something quite shocking.

“And
don’t even get me started on Christmas dinner; oh it’s a nightmare isn’t it?”

No,
Sophie had thought, not really, it’s just like a Sunday roast. She had never understood the panic and fear it seemed to cause in people. Of course, people tended to go insane with the veggies, and cook way too many different things. Who on earth wanted cauliflower cheese with it? Sophie shuddered at the thought, not that there was anything wrong with cauliflower cheese, but she wanted that with some green salad and crusty bread, not spilling over her plate and covered in gravy.

“…so
I cook it all the month before and plate it up and freeze it!” Lynne gave a little smile to show how organised and on the ball she was.

Sophie
couldn’t believe her ears. Why on earth would anyone do that? It sounded horrid. You might as well buy the requisite number of frozen TV dinners and not bother to cook anything at all. Sophie remembered Christmas with Archie. They’d had her parents, and Aunt Dot and his parents and his brother and his wife and they had cooked two geese with apple and potato stuffing. They’d had roast potatoes cooked in the rendered goose fat, and a watercress and orange salad. It had been prefect. And not a cauliflower in sight. They’d rubbed the skin of the goose with Chinese five spice powder and the aroma of it permeating the flat had driven them all crazy with hunger, so they’d snacked on the palmiers that Sophie had baked with homemade tapenade and drank cassis and champagne till it was ready. Bella had been three and even she had loved it.

Sophie
had reached the end of her road and was about to turn into the high street when she heard her name being called. Laurie was crossing the road, dodging cars. He was muffled up to his neck with a long grey woollen scarf and he was carrying a stack of yet to be posted Christmas cards. He pecked Sophie on the cheek, and stamped his feet in the cold.

“I
know it’s too late to post them really,” he said, gesturing at the cards, “but it’s the thought that counts, and I always feel so guilty when I open mine and realise that I haven’t sent them yet!” Sophie smiled at him. She knew that feeling all too well. She imagined her Aunt Dot checking the post and being disappointed every day when a card failed to arrive. That was one thing she had done this year. They’d all gone early as second class post was so much cheaper. Bella had carefully licked and stamped them and pushed them one by one into the scarlet pillar box that she could only just reach.

“Bella
not back yet then?” Laurie asked.

Sophie
shook her head. “But she’s having a lovely time at her dads. I spoke to her last night and she tried to put the cat in the bath...”

Laurie
laughed. “Fancy a drink this evening then? You know, like going out. Remember that? Going out? No babysitters needed. Just you, me, a bottle of vino and maybe a bag of crisps? And you can tell me all about the pressures of working at Pastons, and I can tell you all about the stress of being an unemployed actor.” Sophie laughed. She’d like a drink with Laurie after work, but going out was just too damn expensive.

“Come
to mine, I’ll cook some supper,” she added quickly, glancing at her watch. She was going to be late if she stayed chatting.

“OK,”
Laurie said cheerfully. “It’s a deal. I’ll bring the vino, you cook the supper! See you later! I’m off to an audition, so we may be celebrating. Or drowning our sorrows of course.”

“Break
a leg!” Sophie called after his retreating back.

The shop was even busier that day than it had been the day before and Sophie and Maria barely had time to speak to one another other than a hurried ‘hello’ all day. They were bumping into one another like moths round a lightbulb as the both reached for the same cheese to slice. Italian cured salami studded with fennel seeds, chutneys, packets of Birdcage Blue coffee and the more expensive cheese crackers flew off the shelves. Sophie’s feet were killing her by the end of the day. Although it had been hectic, the shop had a wonderful buzzy feel to it with people smiling and chatting to one another. Sophie watched the dusk fall so early from the shop bay window that by mid-afternoon it was ink dark outside. A really light cold rain that threatened to turn into snow was falling and people were muffled up to the eyes in scarves and hats. Maria had the local radio station on in the shop and they were playing their fair share of Christmas songs. When
Santa
Claus
is
Coming
to
Town
came on, Sophie had a terrible pang of missing Bella as she remembered her singing and dancing round the tiny kitchen to this just before Bertha and Archie had come to pick her up. Bella had been pink cheeked with excitement to see her father again and Sophie had smiled a stiff wooden smile at the front door waving them off, and then collapsed in a heap, sobbing on the sofa for what seemed like hours. She had called her parents in Devon for some much needed words of comfort, but her parents had been on their way out to a ‘safari’ dinner and hadn’t really been that much help.

“What
do you mean mum? What is that?”

“Oh
you know darling, you go to one person’s house for the starter, then on to the other for the main, and so on. We’re doing pudding. Your father’s done a banoffee pie. Coffee, of course, and liqueurs will be at Ron and Audrey’s. I think they should do cheese as well, but they never do. Now do buck up love, and enjoy the time by yourself for a bit. Bell will be home very soon...” Sophie could almost hear her mum pat her neat silvery bob, and fiddle with her pearl earrings as she spoke, anxious to be off.

Sophie
hated it when her parents called her daughter Bell instead of Bella, but she let it go and reflected that her parents seemed to be oddly lacking in grandparent affection. Not that they didn’t love her or Bella, but they had decided that their lives were very busy and that somehow they weren’t going to be that involved with it all. They were the sort that would happily have one of those bumper stickers saying ‘Out having fun spending the kids inheritance!’ Oh well, good for them.

Sophie realised that Maria had asked her something, and was staring blankly at her. “Sorry Maria, I was miles away...what did you say?” Maria laughed.

“I
asked if you’d like a coffee and I’ve put some bits and bobs in a bag for you.” Maria came over to her and put her arms round Sophie’s shoulders, giving her a hug, “She’ll be home soon!” Maria whispered into her ear and patted her on the back.

“Oh,
I know... it’s just, you know, Christmas and everything, it makes me...” Sophie tailed off, feeling miserable and wishing that a salty tear would stop trickling down her cheek.

“I
know poppet, I know...it’s a hard time of year to be alone. But you’re really not, you know? You’ve got the party to look forward to and then you’ll have a full house for Christmas Day and then by Boxing Day you’ll be walking off all the excess in the park!” Maria gave her a final hug and pushed a laden carrier bag into her arms. Sophie smiled her thanks and counted her blessings to have such a great boss and friend in Maria.

It was so cold when she got outside that she could almost feel the ice forming over the puddles on the pavement. The rain had stopped and it was a clear frosty night with a deep biting cold. In the front garden at the end of Sophie’s road an urban fox was on the prowl, completely unafraid of the cars and the pedestrians. Sophie stopped to watch the animal, wishing that Bella was with her to share the moment. A woman heavily laden with shopping bags passed her and saw what she was staring at.

“Oh,
look at that,” she exclaimed, “dirty creatures, and carrying all sorts of diseases, go on with you,’” she shouted. The fox took a disdainful glance at them and slunk through a garden fence.

Sophie
thought it was rather wonderful that a wild creature was stalking the streets of outer London, but just smiled politely at the woman and fumbled for her front door keys.

The
flat was arctic and Sophie immediately flicked the heating on and hopped around the kitchen unpacking Maria’s goodie bag with her coat still on till she warmed up a bit. She put the radio on to drown out the silence in her flat and listened to the reporter excitedly telling her about the forecast of snow. Sophie knew that Bella would be beyond excited about the idea of a white Christmas, but she herself wasn’t so keen. Icy roads, travel plans disrupted and panic buying – as if people weren’t already buying everything in sight with the prospect of the holidays coming up. She sometimes felt like saying to people who were staring wild eyes in the shop, grabbing things off shelves to relax. It seemed such a waste. Sophie shivered inside her coat, and pulled the kitchen blind down on the dark night.

She
rummaged through the bag that Maria had given her and picked through it to make supper for her and Laurie. She decided on some pasta with artichoke hearts that were sitting snugly in their container of chilli flecked olive oil. She’d add some crisply cooked pancetta pieces and a squeeze of lemon and some flat leaf parsley that was growing in a large pot on the windowsill. There was still a serviceable hunk of parmesan in the fridge. That would do nicely. Pudding? She eyed the box of panattone - maybe she could use that for a sort of superior bread and butter pudding? No, it would be too much after the pasta. Maybe a few posh biscuits with coffee would be enough. Or some cheese and apples.

When
the phone rang, Sophie pounced on it, convinced that it would be Bella but it was, unusually, her dad.

“Hello
love, nothing to be alarmed about but your auntie Dot has had a bit of a fall. Silly woman would insist on walking to the post office, and you know how steep that hill is, well, it’s icy and well, one thing lead to another, she’s had a bit of a tumble, so your mum’s gone over there and I’m to follow with supplies.” Her dad sounded remarkably cheerful, Sophie thought, but then again, he did rather love an emergency.

“Is
she in hospital?” Sophie asked, thinking of her elderly aunt, who hated doctors who she always referred to as ‘quacks’ and her aunt’s general loathing of being ‘fussed over’. She would much prefer to be at home in her snug little cottage and her glass of sherry bang on six whilst shouting at the evening news on the BBC. ‘
Damn
fool politicians!’

“Well...
they wanted to keep her in, but you know what she’s like...your mum went first thing this morning on the train. I’m going to leave now, but the weather’s getting bad, your mum wanted me to wait, to see if it cleared a bit, but I’m setting off. Don’t like the look of it and it’s only going to get worse…”

“Oh,
you will drive carefully dad, won’t you? And let me know how Aunt Dot is. I’ll call her later on shall I?” Sophie twisted a strand of her hair between her fingers.

After
a few more minutes of conversation Sophie hung up and on impulse dialled Archie’s number. He had been very fond of her Aunt Dot and they had conducted a flirtatious banter over gin and tonics during family gatherings. The phone rang and rang till the answer machine kicked in and Sophie abruptly hung up. As soon as she did the phone rang again. Convinced that Bertha had been screening the number, Sophie timidly picked it up, prepared to lie about why she hadn’t left a message. Why hadn’t she? And what was the lie going to be? Maybe she could just say that she didn’t want to bother them, and she’d only phoned to tell Archie about Aunt Dot or –

“Sophie?
Hi. It’s Lynne.”

“Oh
Lynne! Hi...” Sophie was enthusiastic in her greeting, and so relieved that it wasn’t Bertha.

“Yes,
hi....look, are you busy? I just need you to tell me what it is I’m doing wrong with this chocolate cake for Nathan’s birthday...” Her normally confident and organised friend sounded on the verge of panic. Sophie went through the process with Lynne and had to tell her that yes, it did make a difference between self raising and plain flour, and that yes, it was fine if it was a bit soggy in the middle and then suggested smothering it with a mixture of melted chocolate and whipped cream.