Miles grabbed my arm and pulled me closer. Through clenched teeth he whispered, ‘My mother is a mad woman.’
‘I think we already knew that…’ I whispered back, suppressing a giggle at Miles’s comment, and the absurdity of the situation. We eyed the gingerbread houses and sat in front of the ones we thought looked the best.
‘You’re here!’ Jeannie’s voice rang out as she bustled into the room, her arms laden with even more decorations. She wore a Christmas apron tied around her waist that looked like it hadn’t seen a speck of flour in its life.
‘I thought you two had gotten swallowed up by the bed again. Honestly, I thought the fascination would have worn off by now.’
‘Never,’ said Miles devilishly.
She eyed us like we were a pair of feral teenagers and tssked. ‘Here, I thought we could use some extra sweets, just in case.’
‘Yes, that’s definitely what the table is lacking,’ he said dryly. ‘It looks great, you’ve done more than enough.’
‘It really does, Jeannie.’ I picked up a piping bag filled with white icing. ‘You’ve thought of everything.’
‘It is great, isn’t it? It’s a shame Toots isn’t here to judge the competition. You know she thought of herself as somewhat of a Mary Berry…’ Jeannie trailed off looking wistful, before slapping the piping bag out my hand. ‘No cheating!’ she chided as she placed it back on the table and headed over to the sideboard to pick up the large gong. Carrying it into the hallway, she stood with her feet slightly apart and began belting the bronze disc like the signal for oncoming war. ‘It’s decorating time!’ she yelled into the heart of the house.
Miles pursed his lips. I imagined Toots lying there, the muffled shouts of ‘It’s decorating time!’ penetrating the closed door of the pantry, and I shuddered a little.
‘Come on, get up,’ she instructed Miles and me. ‘You can’t sit there.’ She gave me a knowing look that said,Remember what we talked about? Remember how you needed to keep an eye on Aunt Clem?
We got up from our seats and stood until everyone else had filed in and we could be told exactly where we were allowed to sit.
Clem was straight in, her wiry hair pushed back by a large black headband. She had been the victor last year, and I could see her jaw was set with grim determination. She walked over to the gingerbread house I’d originally chosen, plonking herself down in the chair and pulling it close to the table with a screech that made me wince. Fergus followed, weaving his way into the room as if he was on a rolling ship at sea. I checked my watch… It wasn’t even midday. Early– too early for him to be this far gone.
He plopped down as far away from Clem as he could.
Martha and Callum were next. Martha’s cheeks were flushed red, as if the prospect of even decorating was too much pressure… but then Jeannie did lay it all on pretty thick. Martha had never won, and I knew she was desperate to.
Callum pointed his fingers like a gun towards me, winked and clicked his tongue. I couldn’t help but laugh at his cocky demeanour. He seemed buoyed up by what he had done to the twins, and I was desperate to find out what had actually happened.
The twins entered, scowling harder than I’d seen them ever scowl before.
Then, like a light switch had been flicked on, Beebee held her phone outstretched in front of her and held up a peace sign. ‘Annual family gingerbread decorating competition,’ she said to the camera, poking her tongue out of the side of her mouth.
Ceecee was capturing sweeping shots of the table.
Fergus reached for a gumdrop before Jeannie swatted his hand away.
I remembered Jeannie’s warning and made sure to position myself next to Clem. Miles was directed with a jerk of the head from Jeannie to sit next to Fergus and be his babysitter.
Mimi entered last, looking like a trapped rabbit. The twins completely ignored her again. What the hell was going on there? Could what Clem said the other day be true? Was Mimi being unfaithful and the twins were icing her out? If only they knew about what their father got up to… Maybe they did, but as usual their mother was held to a much higher standard.
‘While I have you all here,’ Jeannie announced. ‘Artie Peverill called me to inform me that he has gone through George’s will.’
Oh, here we fucking go…
‘There were no nasty surprises. It’s true to Eugene’s wishes on the financial side; there’s not much George could change in that respect.’
Of course he couldn’t. The man didn’t even pick out his own socks.
‘But there was one thing.’ Jeannie looked a little queasy. ‘George has requested no funeral. He—’ She put her hand to her mouth, like she couldn’t believe she was about to say this. ‘He’s requested a bag and burn.’
We all looked at each other in confusion.
‘What’s a bag and burn?’ asked Ceecee.
Jeannie breathed like the words were stuck in her throat. ‘It’s where you don’t have a funeral. Your remains are taken straight to a crematorium. No coffin… no… no nothing!’ Her lip wobbled.
