‘It’s in the pressure cooker,’ said Lottie. Daniel looked disappointed and helped himself to a pile of spaghetti.
‘Is the Bolognese meat-free?’ asked Angie.
‘Er, no,’ said Lottie casually. A penny rolled around her mind and finally dropped. ‘By any chance are you vegetarian, Scott?’ she asked.
‘Vegan,’ he said.
Bum, thought Lottie. She glared at her mother in anattempt to convey her murderous thoughts. ‘Mum, I wish you’d—’
‘Reminded you?’ butted in her mother. ‘She often forgets that I’m vegan.’ Everyone glanced in her direction and there was a brief pause in noise levels. Lottie wanted to call her out. Since when had her mother ever been a vegan? Or vegetarian? Or even keen on vegetables for that matter? Her mother appeared to be trying to communicate but her eyebrows weren’t moving. The Botox was still doing its job. Despite this, Lottie got the message:please don’t out me as a committed carnivore.
‘Silly me,’ said Lottie, slapping her palm to her forehead. ‘Anyway I’m sure the spaghetti is vegan friendly and I think Nana has some jars of tomato sauce in the cupboard. There’s also bread, cheese and hummus.’ Veggie crisis averted, for now. She’d worry about Christmas dinner later.
‘But is itvegancheese?’ asked her mother, peering at the cheese selection accusingly.
‘No … it’s not vegan cheese, but,’ she checked the label on the tub of hummus, ‘the hummus is fine.’ She almost shouted, ‘Hooray for the hummus!’
‘I’m looking forward to your mince pies,’ said Angie to Jessie, picking up one of the misshapen delights. Lottie wondered at the speed with which the food was disappearing around her.
‘Auntie Lottie made those,’ said Jessie. Angie gave Lottie a pitying look.
‘Any suet in them?’ asked Scott. Lottie nodded. ‘Not vegan, Angie,’ he said. Angie tried to look nonchalant but failed.
Oh well, thought Lottie. ‘Happy Christmas Eve, everyone,’ she said, raising her glass.
Lottie took her seat opposite Emily and helped herselfto some food. She noted that Emily was joining Jessie in having orange juice rather than wine and she wondered if that meant what she thought it did. It was clear she knew Lottie was watching her and she concentrated on her plate.
‘Scott, what sort of thing are you into?’ It was Lottie’s thinly veiled attempt to discover if there was anything in the house she could subtly wrap up as a gift for him. Even though it was her mother’s fault for not telling her, she couldn’t bear the thought of Scott realising he wasn’t on the guest list.
‘Your mother,’ he said, with a soft look at Angie. Uncle Daniel almost choked on his spaghetti, and embarrassed splutters echoed around the table.
‘What’s funny?’ asked Jessie, frowning at the grown-ups.
Lottie gave up; they were worse than children. ‘Nothing, sweetie, they’re just being silly.’ Lottie glared at Uncle Daniel and he thumped his chest.
‘Went down the wrong way,’ he said, smothering another fit of the giggles.
‘What do you do for a living, Scott?’ asked Zach, and Lottie silently thanked him for stepping in with her relieved expression.
‘Trimmer,’ said Scott and he carried on eating.
‘What do you trim?’ asked Zach.
‘Someone’s bush?’ asked Daniel and the giggling started up again.
Scott chuckled, but thankfully seemed to have missed that the joke was on him. ‘I’m a classic car trimmer. I replace interiors in vintage cars.’
‘That must be a very skilled job,’ said Lottie, glaring at the worst offenders.
‘I don’t know about that, but I do love it. It’s great tohave the chance to work on something really old and make it feel new again.’
Uncle Daniel opened his mouth but the scowl Lottie shot him made him shut it again. ‘You like old cars then?’ asked Lottie.
‘Oh, yeah. I like anything really old.’
That finished Daniel and he burst out laughing. Scott didn’t seem to get the joke. ‘Ignore them,’ said Angie, through pursed lips.
‘Lottie, how’syourlove life?’ asked Uncle Daniel, once he’d recovered.
