There are a host of cars already parked up at Josh’s parents’ place when we arrive. I’m pleased to see everyone, grabbing them all for hugs, one after the other as Josh follows with our big bag of Christmas presents to dish out.
There is Josh’s sister, Emma and her husband Craig, along with Josh’s niece. Boy, she’s grown this past year. Josh’s sister Sasha and her wife, Georgia. Georgia’s changed the blue streaks in her hair to purple, and points at Josh’s purple streak with a laugh as she saysinspired by you.
Phil, Josh’s Dad, kisses me on the cheek, and I get a wave and aheyfrom his introverted brother, Scott.
And then there is Carly. Her baby bump sure is showing now. I put a hand on it with an extrahello little one, and she gives me the lowdown on morning sickness, and potential names, and what kind of colours they might be doing the nursery. It’s a monologue ofself, self, selfas I take a seat next to her, but I’m used to that by now. I’m kinda fond of it, and of her, even though we had a rocky start to begin with, right at this very table.
Josh helps his mum with the serving bowls, and whoa, she’s created a feast. I squeeze Josh’s knee under the table, feeling on top of the world as I munch on delicious turkey, honey roasted parsnips and huge Yorkshire puddings.
We chat, and laugh, and give cheers to an amazing year, despite the ups and the downs. Carly does another burst ofme, me, meby giving a toast to her baby bump with her orange juice, and we all join in with a smile.
It’s a fantastic lunch, it really is. I adore all of them. But I’m also aware of the ticking clock, my butterflies fluttering faster and faster as the afternoon draws on.
Time to go soon.
Josh has been drinking buck’s fizz on purpose, to keep his alcohol levels fit for driving, but I haven’t. I’m tipsy as we stand up and give our goodbyes after a round of Christmas crackers and cringy jokes.
“You’re off?!” Heather, Josh’s mum asks in horror. “But we haven’t got the board games out yet! What about Christmas Monopoly?”
“We’ve got somewhere to be,” Josh tells her, gripping my hand in his. “People to see.”
“Urgh, you mean, Tiff?” Carly asks, still at loggerheads with our larger than life, awesome best friend. “Why are you dashing over to see her?”
“It’s not Tiff,” Josh says. “It’s another friend.”
“A friend?” Heather asks, with a smile on her face.
Damn, she knows Josh so well. They are so unconventional as a family that I’m sure she hears the slant offriendin his voice.
“Yes, a friend.”
He doesn’t elaborate, just repeats thelove you all, catch you soon,and we’re off and away.
I take a deep breath when I slip in the passenger seat of our new Range Sport, weirdly nervous now the time is approaching.
“Ready?” Josh asks, and I giggle.
“Excited, but shitting it.”
“Why are you shitting it? It’s only Heath.”
He reverses from his parents’ driveway.
“I dunno, it’s just… different. Christmas is…”
“Meaningful,” he finishes for me. “Yeah I know, baby. It means a lot.”
“Itsaysa lot.”
“And that’s exactly what we want it to say. New year, new road, remember?”
Yes, I remember.
A road we’ll hopefully be walking as a trio, no matter the circumstances surrounding it.
It’s bizarre approaching Heath’s place in our own car, since we normally cab it over. His place is one of a huge row of houses, set back from the road. Only his stands out from the others, dramatically. It’s been a while since we’ve been here, and I light up inside again as though it’s the very first time. Just like always, it’s like arriving at a Tim Burton movie set, with Heath’s hugeblack door, and black window frames, and his jet-black stone pathway leading up to the entrance.
He has Christmas lights twirled around his period style lanterns on each side of the doorway, and purple baubles hung on the twisted vines on either side of the path.
