‘He threatened todeep-frythe turkey.’
She winced. ‘Fine. But it’s just what people do. You deal with your family quirks.’
‘Not anymore, it was work or the Maldives. You could come with me?’
Megan sighed and set her mug on the table top. ‘You can’t keep hiding from them forever.’
‘Watch me. I can, and I will. And I’ll be bloody well paid to do so.’
The money was obscene. They’d wired the deposit as if it were as insignificant as a fiver. Ten days of aquaintfamily stay at a manor house overlooking the sea. Private chef. Staff. Presents pre-wrapped according to my spreadsheet. I’d arranged a brass quartet because the brief said carols, but I doubted the local village had much more than a group of grannies with loft intentions about their talent. The hot chocolate wouldn’t be powdered and dumped in a mug before being topped up by the kettle. I’d instructed the gardeners to source fresh mistletoe to artfully drape in photogenic doorways.
‘I cannot believe you won’t be home on Christmas Day,’ Megan said, acting as if I’d said I was moving to Mars. ‘Can’t you do one day? Come for lunch at Dad’s? We can time Mum’s so we get her before the gin. You can nap in the car between houses. I’ll drive. I’ll bring snacks.’
‘Tempting.’ I folded another jumper. ‘But no.’
‘Amanda.’
I didn’t look up.
‘Megan. I’m not going to back down. Everything is arranged. I’m going to go and give my clients the kind of Christmas most people could only dream of. Then I’m going to invoice them until they cry festive tears. And then, in January, when everyone else is touting for work to see them through the month, I’ll book a holiday somewhere with sun and no tinsel. That’smyChristmas.’
‘So you’re replacing our family with strangers.’
‘I’m replacing emotional warfare with controlled chaos. There’s a difference.’
‘They’re millionaires,’ she said, as if the word itself should rearrange my mind. ‘Remember the wedding in Monaco? You came with that twitch.’
‘That twitch paid for my deposit on this place, and the nice knives.’
Her eyes softened.
‘Is this about…’ she gestured vaguely.
My muscles seized. ‘It’s about work.’
‘Mmm.’
Megan dug her toes under my rug and watched me stuff my life into zippable compartments.
‘Tell me about them,’ she said, accepting that I wasn’t going to back down. ‘This family. The clients.’
‘Australian old money married new. He made something with an app.’
‘Of course.’
‘She runs a foundation. Then there’s the grandmother who moved to Australia as a kid when her parents emigrated. She was brought up on a rural Scottish estate, and it’s her urging that has them back here to celebrate Christmas. Three adult childrenwith surnames for first names and careers that I don’t fully understand. A heap of grandchildren. And there’s a donkey.’
‘A donkey.’ Megan brightened. ‘Well, at least someone will be there to smooch you.’
‘I’m not kissing a client’s donkey.’
‘You’re so lame.’
‘I never said I wasn’t.’
‘Mum is going to ask where you are,’ Megan said. ‘Graham will offer to pick you up in the Volvo like we’re ten. And you won’t be here.’
‘Correct.’
