He selected the largest one, which turned out to be a cold press juicer for Spencer. Issy suspected it was from Heather, who was always criticising his diet. She’d clearly also exceeded her own hundred-dollar limit.
On and on it went. Eventually Issy’s gift was selected, a voucher for the spa at the Ashworth Park Hotel, something she could already use anytime she wanted to without charge. She looked at Felix, who grinned back at her. He’d made an artform out of using charm to compensate for a breathtaking lack of effort. She shook her head, but couldn’t help smiling.
When Issy got up to deliver the next gift, there was only one left. A large, shiny, gold giftbag. She glanced around to see who was still without one. Daisy and Olivia both had Mecca gift cards, Heather had an Oroton makeup bag, Helen a Diptyque candle, Malcolm two hardback autobiographies, Felix two polo shirts (in very unfashionable pastels) and Polly had a restaurant voucher which Heather must have purchased at the last minute. Cathy’s massage gun sat on her lap, Hugh was still cradling his bottle of whisky and Spencer’s juicer sat on the floor by his side. No one was without a gift.
She read the tag, frowning. The names had been typed, rather than handwritten. ‘For Spencer, Felix and Isobel Ashworth,’ she said slowly. The formality struck her as strange. Inside were three identical boxes wrapped in brown paper. ‘Who’s this from?’ she asked.
Spencer leaned forward. ‘What is it?’
‘I don’t know. There’s one for each of us.’ She passed one to Spencer, one to Felix and took the last one out for herself.
‘It must be from Santa,’ Felix said.
Issy pulled at the tape on one end, ripping the paper to reveal a white box wrapped in plastic. She turned it over to read the front.
‘Heritage DNA.’ She looked up to see her brothers each holding an identical box.
‘What is this?’ Felix asked.
‘It’s a DNA kit,’ she said, reading the back of the box, which boasted about the speed of their results and the size of their database. ‘You know, those tests people do to trace their family history.’ She’d seen them advertised on TV. ‘This Christmas, give the gift of family,’ the melodious voiceover said. They were marketed as a simple way to learn more about your ancestry and ethnicity.
‘Who’s it from?’ Spencer asked. ‘Mum?’
‘They’re certainly not from me!’ Heather said. ‘My tennis friend Rhonda did one of those things. She was doing her family tree and she wanted to track down the Greek side of the family. It turned out the Greek side was actually Turkish, and she hates the Turks so it was a disaster!’
Felix reached for a piece of smoked salmon from the enormous platter on the coffee table. ‘Wow, Rhonda sounds racist.’
‘I don’t think she’sracistnecessarily, Felix. I think she just found it … disconcerting … to suddenly realise that she isn’t who she thinks she is.’
Polly leaned forward. ‘They can reveal all sorts of things, those tests.’ Everyone turned to look at her. ‘I read an article inVanity Fairabout people who discovered some long-hidden family secret when they did a DNA test. It was fascinating, actually.’
‘Like what?’ Issy asked.
Polly shrugged. ‘One woman found out that her older sister was really her mother!’
An awkward silence.
Issy laughed. ‘Well, I don’t have an older sister, so that’s one thing I don’t have to worry about.’
‘Not that we know of, at least,’ Felix said.
‘Someone must know where they came from,’ Spencer said.
Heather gestured to the gold gift bag. ‘That bag arrived yesterday by courier. I assumed it was from one of you and asked Rosa to put it under the tree.’
‘So no one knows anything about them?’ Spencer said.
They all looked at one another, blank-faced.
Malcolm shook his head and leaned forward in his chair. ‘Only an absolute fool would do one of those tests.’ There was a sharp edge in his tone.
Was Issy imagining it, or did her father seem angry? A strange feeling took hold in her stomach. Slowly, she placed the white box on the coffee table as though it was a bomb which required delicate handling.
Malcolm stood abruptly. ‘Are we going to be fed at some stage?’ he barked at the waitress, who snapped to attention.
‘Please tell the caterers we’re ready for lunch,’ Heather said. ‘Thank you, Georgie.’
‘Were you expecting a football team?’ Issy asked her mother, surveying the buffet table, which was laden with a roast turkey, a glazed ham, a side of salmon, golden potatoes and at least four festive-looking salads containing pomegranate seeds.
