‘We’ll miss you so much,’ he exclaims. ‘But it’s not your fault…’ Her gaze skims the line of fence posts jutting from the snow-smothered field. She’s relieved of course. But something about his stoical tone stirs a pool of uneasiness in the pit of her stomach. She shrugs off the feeling, reminding herself that this is what she’s always wanted. For Joel to be a willing participant in the family, rather than acting as if it’s a terrible party he’s been forced to attend.
He hands her over to Fin and then Martha. Their chats are brief but at least they are cordial. ‘We’ll miss you, Mum,’ Martha says. ‘It won’t be the same here without you.’
Shelley’s heart seems to twist. ‘Oh, darling. I’ll miss you too. I’m so sorry it’s turned out like this…’
‘It’s all right.’ Her daughter’s voice wavers. Her headstrong daughter who has barely given Shelley the time of day these past few months sounds genuinely upset. Shelley rubs away sudden tears as they finish the call, reassured that at least Christmas will still happen back at home, even without her being a part of it. To think she was so worried about them fending for themselves. New Year’s resolution number one, she decides, is to stop fussing and worrying because her family is wonderful. She’s been far too critical lately, and too quick to rise to small misdemeanours.
And resolution number two? To be grateful for what she has. Because Shelley has a husband and children who love her and the best friends in the world.
What more could she possibly want?
So Joel is going to have to manage Christmas alone, with intense hostility pervading the house. Brilliant. Justbrilliant.Whatever happened to goodwill towards all men? Frankly, it’s a nightmare. He doesn’t even know where to start with the raft of issues he’s been left to deal with here.
However, a glimmer of positivity has cut through the gloom. In fact, Shelley being trapped up in Scotland is something of a Christmas miracle because yesterday, despite his promises, the glazier didn’t turn up. Glaring at the cracked window, Joel left several panicky messages, his anger mounting as the man failed to respond. He tried other glaziers, to no avail, and was starting to fear that he’d have to figure out how to replace the glass himself. Christ, he can barely hang a picture without injuring himself! Could he lie and say that some passing vandal had lobbed a brick at it? But now, minutes after Shelley has finished the call, there’s a sharp rap on the door and Joel runs to it, overcome with relief when he sees the glazier standing there. ‘You’re here, finally!’ he announces.
‘Yeah, sorry about yesterday.’ The man scratches his meaty forehead, seemingly unconcerned by the anguish he’s caused. ‘Ended up having a bit of an impromptu Christmas lunch with the team.’
‘Team? What team?’ Joel barks. He has already decided not to offer him coffee or tea.
‘Just colleagues.’ He shrugs.
‘Oh, aglaziers’Christmas party,’ Joel sneers. ‘Hope it was smashing.’ The joke falls flat. In fact, he doesn’t care about the tradesman’s social engagements. All he wants is for him to fix the living room window and stop sniggering at the state of their Christmas tree. Yesterday Joel made a zillion calls in an attempt to locate a replacement. There were none left; not a single fir or spruce or whatever they are – he’s not good on tree varieties. So on top of fretting madly about the window and his love bite and daubing on toothpaste – hadn’t that worked in 1988? – he’s had to fix the cracked tree with brown parcel tape and prop it back up in its pot. ‘Come a cropper, did it?’ The man smirks.
‘It had a small accident, yes.’ Joel watches in a supervisory role as, finally, the glazier turns his attentions to replacing the broken glass. Job completed, he tots up the bill and announces that he’d appreciate payment right now, if that’s okay – Visa or Mastercard will do.
As soon as he has cleared off, Joel glowers at a succession of delightfully festive emails he’s received this morning.
Hi! I will be right on point,is the gist of these things.You visit 18+ sites. Your devices are compromised and I have seen you pleasuring yourself. Don’t worry we all do it! But I created a double screen video (you have good taste lol) and I can access your contact lists on email mobile socials etc. Unless you pay 3000 $ in bitcoin I will share masturbatory video to all on your list including mother. Amount: 0.28 BTC (approximately).
Joel isn’t an idiot. He knows it’s a scam and even before his laptop was stolen, he never did anything of that persuasion at home. Instead he’s been bottling up his sexual tension like a demijohn of home-made wine until he’s round at Carmel’s and the great uncorking happens. Carmel who, incidentally, seems to be blanking his messages at the moment. But still, he is unnerved by these emails, and now his kids – his own flesh and blood – are acting like bitcoin scammers after everything he’sdone for them. Firstly, there was no helping to clear up after their house-wrecking party. Now Fin is hinting that he’d like to go on a ruinously expensive school trip to Rome and is he okay with that? Of more immediate concern is the fact that neither he nor Martha have lifted a finger to get ready for Joel’s parents arriving tomorrow, and are clearly not planning to do anything he asks, possibly ever again.
‘Just popping out,’ he calls upstairs, to zero response. He’s picked up the butcher’s order already – it was like lugging a bison in a cardboard box down the street – but he still has to figure out how to replace Shelley’s granny’s smashed antique baubles (andexplain where they’ve gone), and buy paper to wrap not only those last remaining gifts, but also the ones that were all torn open at the party. And Shelley’s present! He can’t just hand her the Superdrug voucher. At the very least, he’ll have to buy her a box of chocolates too. As he marches to the shops he remembers that he’s also supposed to have delivered the neighbours’ Christmas cards. But sod them. What have they ever done for him? Insisted that he’d taken in a parcel for them when he hadn’t.
And now, in the distance, he registers a woman in a pink padded jacket whose neutral expression seems to flash to one of anger as she spots him. ‘Hello!’ he says brightly, realising she’s vaguely familiar but he can’t place her face.
‘You’re Fin’s dad, right?’ she snaps.
‘What?’ Joel backs away from this madwoman.
‘Leaving the kids alone to run riot in your house!’
‘Erm, I’m sorry, I’m not sure who you?—’
‘I’m Ajay’s mum. He’s fourteen, you know. He could’ve had alcohol poisoning thanks to you. You think it’s fine, do you? Supplying alcohol to minors?’
‘I didn’tsupplyit,’ he protests. ‘They brought it when I was out. I didn’t realise?—’
‘Does Shelley know about this?’
‘Yes. No. I don’t know!’ Whatisthe correct answer here?
‘Well, you should be ashamed of yourself!’ Off she stomps, leaving Joel glancing around nervously as if the police, or a team of Ajay’s fierce uncles, might be closing in.
At least there is wrapping paper and Sellotape – his nemesis – at the corner shop, plus a decent-looking box of chocolates that he’s sure Shelley will appreciate. Back home, he gets stuck into the wrapping. The Sellotape only attacks him twice and at least the window’s been fixed,andthe tree, after a fashion.
You can do this, Joel tells himself. All he needs now is for that damn love bite to fade and everything will be all right.
34
