She was rummaging in the sideboard when Jessie popped her head around the door.
‘Watchya doing?’ Jessie asked.
‘I’m laying the table. Do you want to help me?’
‘Yeah. I’ve got something for the centre.’ Jessie ran off and returned shortly afterwards with something green and red made from papier mâché.
‘Oh that’s impressive,’ said Lottie.
‘It’s holly,’ said Jessie, proudly placing it in the middle of the table. It was quite big but at least it could stand up on its own. It was one large bulbous holly leaf with two oddly shaped red berries at the base. Lottie studied it. Now it looked like a giant green knob with red balls.
The door opened and Joe’s face appeared, his expression uneasy. Lottie went into ‘everything is completely fine’ mode. Even though it wasn’t.
His eyes alighted on the phallic centrepiece. ‘Wow. That’s …’
‘Holly,’ said Jessie.
Joe narrowed his eyes and appeared to be stifling a laugh. ‘Of course it is. Anyway, I’m going to pop back down to the pub. I wondered if Jessie wanted to come with me?’
Jessie and Lottie exchanged confused expressions. ‘I think Zach’s trying to cut down her alcohol consumption,’ said Lottie, trying overly hard to sound breezy. Jessie giggled.
Joe shook his head and she noticed a little colour spring to his cheeks. He seemed awkward around her too. Was this how things would be for the rest of the day? Uncomfortable and cautious?
‘Sorry. Let me try again. Petra from the pub said she can let me have a sack of Tiny’s food, but I’m not carrying it up the hill. So I’m going in the car to pick it up. I thought Jessie might like to meet Tiny.’ Jessie was pulling a face. ‘Tiny’s a dog, by the way,’ added Joe, and Jessie’sface lit up. She ran for the door. ‘I’ll take that as a yes,’ he said.
‘Hang on,’ said Lottie. ‘I don’t mean to be judgemental but didn’t you have a skinful earlier?’
‘Nope. I had half a pint. It was Zach who was downing them. And I wouldn’t dream of driving under the influence.’ His expression was serious.
At least he hadn’t changed on that score; she’d always admired his strong moral compass. ‘That’s okay then.’ She busied herself with some serviettes.
Joe rubbed his chin. ‘Actually, that reminds me: is Zach okay? Because he wouldn’t elaborate, but back at the pub he kept saying something like Emily wouldn’t be his girlfriend for much longer.’
‘Erm, I’m sure he will explain when the time is right,’ said Lottie, biting her lip. It was tricky, but she could hardly give away the secret that Emily was about to be upgraded from girlfriend to fiancée.
‘Come on, Joe!’ called Jessie from the hallway.
‘I’d better go.’
‘Make sure you’re both back in time for dinner, or there’ll be trouble.’ Lottie was back to fake jolly mode. Joe gave a short nod before he disappeared. When she heard the front door shut, she let out a sound like a punctured bouncy castle. It was taking so much effort to interact with him. She missed their carefree relationship.
Lottie finished laying the table by herself. Underneath everything else was the thick table protector – as per Nana’s instructions, it always went on first, just in case the heat of the dishes or an accidental spillage damaged her precious antique table. Next, she had used the thick white tablecloth that Nana kept for best, overlaid with a pretty, shiny cloth, deeply embroidered with bright redpoinsettias and deep green holly leaves. Nana had brought it back from a German market many years ago. Either side of Jessie’s phallic holly centrepiece were two large candles which promised scents of cinnamon and clementine, surrounded by pinecones and real ivy that Lottie had collected from around the village. It was tasteful apart from the bright red crackers on each place setting; but then you had to have crackers.
Lottie stepped back to admire her handiwork. The table was the picture of Christmas. She hoped Nana would have approved.
Just as Lottie returned to the kitchen, two timers went off simultaneously and the sprouts went volcanic and spewed all over the ancient hob, extinguishing the gas. She began to regret banishing everyone else from the kitchen. She pushed her hair off her face with her hand, forgetting she was wearing oven mitts, and wondered how on earth Nana had managed Christmas dinner – for nine or more – on her own for all those years.
Lottie decided that unless she wanted a disaster on her hands – and all over the kitchen – she needed help. She straightened her apron and strode down the hallway. A cacophony of voices and barking grew in volume as she drew closer to the drawing room. The muddle of fraught voices, interspersed with the dog’s insistent howls, made her realise that what she’d left behind in the kitchen may have been the calmer of the two situations.
She gripped the brass doorknob and was about to steel herself for what lay inside when the butler’s bell began to echo around the manor house. Someone was at the front door. Lottie dropped her hand and claimed the visitor as a temporary escape; she’d tackle the family in a moment.She hurried to the oversized door, opened it and was hit by a sudden rush of icy air. She braced herself against the cold and faced the woman standing on the steps, her petite face framed by the fur trim of her hood.
‘Happy Christmas!’ Lottie chimed, before she clocked the young woman’s tense expression.
‘Nicola?’ the woman asked, appraising Lottie in a way that made her shiver more than the chill winter’s air had.
‘No. I’m her niece, Lottie. But come in, I can get Aunt Nicola for you.’ Lottie ushered the woman inside; the front door gave a tired creak as Lottie shoved it closed and led the way. She was beginning to feel uneasy at the thought of eking out the turkey any further; although if the visitor was vegan, she was in luck.
‘Sorry, I didn’t catch your name?’ asked Lottie, as they reached the drawing room. It still sounded as though a football match were taking place inside. The woman ignored Lottie, opened the door and strode in.
