‘That’s good,’ said Lottie, watching everyone else take their seats. ‘No, sorry Scott your place name is over there.’ Lottie indicated the opposite side of the table to Angie – her attempt to divert him from cosying up to her mother. Angie gave her the look of a sulky teenager but sat down in the right place.
‘Where’s Aunt Nicola?’ asked Lottie, which was answered by a series of shrugs. Lottie handed the oven gloves to Emily and started a quick search for her aunt. She grumbled to herself when there was no sign of her on the ground floor. The food would be getting cold. She dashed upstairs and could hear sniffling as she reached the top. She tapped lightly on her aunt’s bedroom door. ‘Aunt Nicola, it’s dinner time.’ Inside Nicola blew her nose loudly and came to the door. Lottie gave a sympathetic smile when she opened it. ‘Are you coming down for some turkey?’
Nicola’s face was red and blotchy and Lottie softened at the sight of her. Her aunt may not have been the warmestof characters, but she didn’t deserve the Christmas she had had so far.
‘I don’t think so. I’ve had to tell Rhys he’s not an only child.’
‘How did he take it?’ asked Lottie.
‘He doesn’t seem bothered. He just kept saying if Rebecca’s twenty then it happened ages ago so it’s “no biggy”.’ Lottie had to smile at Nicola using Rhys’s turn of phrase.
‘If he’s okay, that’s a big hurdle over. Don’t miss out on your Christmas dinner.’
‘I’m not sure I could stand the smug looks,’ said Nicola.
‘It won’t be like that. I promise. They’ll all be far too busy inspecting the meal I’ve produced and worrying if it’s going to land them in A&E.’
Nicola didn’t smile. ‘You all think I deserve it.’
Lottie shook her head. ‘No one thinks that.’ Nicola gave her a knowing look.
‘Really. Nobody deserves to be cheated on. And they certainly don’t deserve to be confronted with it on Christmas morning.’ Aunt Nicola was lots of things: she was a snob, a social climber and not the most sensitive of people, but she was not a bad person.
‘Thank you. Do you want to know a secret?’
Lottie wasn’t sure she could cope with any more secrets, but despite this she said, ‘If you want to share, of course.’
Nicola’s expression was unreadable. ‘I didn’t know about Daniel’s affair. Not a clue. I just said I knew all about it so he’d not think he’d won. But I found out at the same time as you all did when she … Rebecca, walked in.’ Nicola’s voice was steady, defying the tears which were silently running down her cheeks. ‘I know it happened a long time ago but I can’t just dismiss it.’
Lottie pulled her aunt into a tight hug. ‘Come on,’ she said, stepping back. ‘You’ve never been one to hide away. Remember it’s Uncle Daniel who’s in the wrong here.’
This seemed to galvanise Nicola. She straightened her shoulders, strode onto the landing and shut the bedroom door behind her. ‘Then what are we waiting for?’ she asked, blotting her eyes and smoothing down her hair. This was more like the Aunt Nicola Lottie was used to.
When they entered the dining room everyone was sitting in the right places, which was a feat in itself. Jessie was chatting happily to Scott and they seemed unaware that everyone else in the room had fallen deathly quiet. Lottie was thankful that someone had put on some Christmas music. A few eyes darted in their general direction but quickly refocused on piling their plates high with the bounty of food, which Emily must have ferried to the table in Lottie’s absence. Nicola took her place opposite Daniel. Lottie wished she’d thought to move one of them, but it was too late now to do anything without it turning intothemost awkward game of musical chairs ever.
She lit the candles and took her seat on the end so she was near the door for a quick exit to sort out the pudding. She noted that most plates were full but there was still plenty of food on the table, meaning she had catered for twice as many people, just like Nana used to do – although there were no pigs in blankets left for her, which was hugely disappointing. Lottie stuck her fork into a large roast potato and felt the crispiness of the outside. A little bud of pride blossomed inside her.
‘What is that?’ asked Rhys, pointing at Jessie’s papier mâché creation, unable to hide his grin.
Bernard raised his eyebrows. ‘Looks like a giant—’
‘Holly! It’s holly. Leaf and berries,’ explained Lottie, outlining the shape in the air and immediately wishing she hadn’t. ‘Jessie made it.’ Everyone congratulated Jessie, and Bernard smothered his dinner in gravy, still chuckling under his breath.
‘Here you go,’ said Bernard, passing the gravy boat to Angie.
‘No thanks,’ she said, picking up her cutlery.
Bernard looked more shocked than he had at the Rebecca revelations. ‘No gravy? What on earth is wrong with you?’ he asked.
Angie kept her eyes on her plate. ‘Nothing.’
‘But you always have gravy – and loads of it!’ He put a finger in the air as if a thought had struck him. He caught a drip of the gravy and tasted it. ‘It’s okay. Lottie’s done a fine job.’ He offered the gravy again.
‘No, thank you,’ said Angie more firmly this time.
‘You’re worrying me now, Angie. What’s the matter?’ Bernard plonked down the gravy boat and studied his niece with genuine concern.
‘Nothing is wrong. I’m a vegan,’ she said, in almost a whisper.
