“Did you, or did you not, say you needed time to cook the damn thing? Your exact words, if I recall correctly, were ‘the fruit needs time to marinate so the flavours can develop.’” The guys laughed at Mal’s falsetto.
“Piss off. I’m just doing what Mum told me.”
“I think it’s great you’re making the pudding,” Matt said. “I’m sure you’ll do an awesome job. We may make a chef out of you yet.”
“Thank you for the vote of confidence,” Steve said, his expression serious as he tipped his bottle toward Matt in salute before giving Mal the finger.
“You’ll give Gordon Ramsay a run for his money with that potty mouth of yours,” Ken called from his spot on the daybed.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake—” Steve started.
“See what I mean?” Ken chuckled.
Steve rolled his eyes as all the guys, his supposed friends, laughed. “You’re the ones who voted for me to take charge of the pudding.”
“Yeah, but I didn’t think you’dmakeone. You could’ve just bought a pudding, you know,” Matt said.
When the group had been making arrangements for the Christmas week away, they’d discussed plans for Christmas Day. Over a couple of rounds of beer, they’d divvied up cooking chores. A couple of years ago they’d done the same thing—a week away with the boys for Christmas, that time to the beach—and his ex, Richard, had taken charge of the pudding. Richard had purchased one of those gourmet puddings, the cost of which could probably have fed a family for a week, and he had provided store-bought but top-of-the-line egg custard. There was no way in hell that Steve was going tobuya pudding. He was going to do his damned best to outdo Richard’s ostentatious offering.Even if it kills me,he thought ruefully.
* * *
They had a barbecue for dinner. In fact, it looked as if all their meals would be cooked on the six-burner gas barbie on the deck, given the heat of the kitchen. The scent of grilling steak filled the air and mingled with the fragrance of the bush, tall eucalyptus and other Australian native trees as far as the eye could see. The house was a perfect set-up for holidaymakers with its many bedrooms, the living area located upstairs to take advantage of the mountain view, and the wide expanse of deck that housed a barbecue, plenty of seating, plus an outdoor hot tub.
“Here. Take this.” Ken passed over a couple of containers of store-bought potato salad and coleslaw—all of it smothered in creamy mayonnaise. This was definitely not a week for watching your weight, but none of the guys really wanted to spend unnecessary time preparing food anyway. They’d have enough of that on Christmas Day, when they’d promised to go all out. It was only Steve who seemed to have drawn the short straw on cooking duties. Why hadn’t he realised cooking that bloody pudding would take so much time?
“Will it be long?” Douglas asked Matt, who was manning the barbecue. “I’m starving. I could eat the crotch out of a low-flying duck.”
Matt laughed. “You’re always starving. But no, it won’t be long. Just another couple of minutes. Grab the others and some fresh drinks, will you?”
Once the steaks were cooked—no asking for preferences, what was on the platter was what you got—they sat around the table and dug into the food. Apart from the music playing in the background, the only noise was the clatter of cutlery on the plates as they filled their hungry bellies. Conversation didn’t start up again until the meals were half devoured.
“There’s something about the country air that always makes me hungry,” Matt said, inhaling deeply.
“I know what you mean,” Steve agreed, taking another slice of bread.
“Maybe it’s the altitude,” Mal said.
“Or maybe it’s just the fact that we’re on holiday in a house where you’ve fully stocked the fridge,” Corey threw in with a wry grin.
“I guess there is that.” Mal chuckled. “But what’s a holiday without good friends, good food and good drinks?”
“You guys have done this before, spent Christmas together? What made you get together for the holiday in the first place?” Corey asked.
Mal spoke up. “Yeah, we’ve spent Christmas together before. We went away the Christmas before last. That time to the South Coast. We took a house by the beach. You know, one of those old original weatherboard cottages. It was great because we could swim and surf all day, but not have to worry too much about the place.”
“Thank God, what with all the sand we traipsed in,” Ken added.
“So, why didn’t you go back this time? To the beach, I mean,” Corey said, looking around the table.
“That’d be my fault,” Steve interjected. “Renting a place by the beach, even if it’s only for a long weekend, especially at Christmas, costs an absolute fortune—”
“I think it’s great coming someplace different, but we would—” Mal started.
Steve held his hand up. “Yeah, yeah, I know. You guys would have paid.” He looked around the table at each of his friends and was reminded how much he loved them all. They’d do anything for him and had done so in the past, but his pride meant he wanted to stand on his own two feet. “But I hate not being able to pay my own way. And since I had to find a new place—”
“Since that arseholeforcedyou to have to find a new place and took off with half your shit—”
“C’mon, Mal. I know you’re pissed off with Richard—”
