‘So you have afull-time job, a family and you still made all these mince pies?’
‘Yeah,’ I sigh. ‘Am I nuts?’
‘No, each to her own,’ says Sid. ‘You will find no judgement here. I’m just in awe of you. I was thinking of getting a cat but what if I have to make special dinners for the cat if it was sick?’
‘I think they have specialsicky-cat, cat food,’ I say.
‘My mother always looked after the cats at home, we had loads. My mother takes in strays, you see, stray animals and stray people. And I like to look after her.’
She sits down beside me.
‘She sounds wonderful,’ I say, ‘tell me more.’
‘We lived in a big but absolutely shatteredrun-down house when I was a child. There was no heating, so if there was a room that didn’t have a fireplace in it you were in terrible trouble. We went through a lot of hot water bottles and blankets: you needed blankets. I still don’t like being cold,’ she admits. ‘People would turn up at the house with kittens and puppies because they knew that Mum would take them in. Maybe because lots of women stayed with us over the years, the locals thought she was gay, so random strangers would turn up at the door and say, “we were told that the lesbian lady would look after the cats/puppies/whatever”.’
I laugh.
‘That’s so funny,’ I say and then realise I might have just insulted her mother if she is gay.
‘She’s not a lesbian, but two of the women living there for a few years were, so people assumed any woman in our house was a lesbian until my stepfather came to stay. Where we lived, if you didn’t have a family and two point five children, you were weird. Mum’s different, lovely and kind. She likes having a lot of people around, likes rescuing people. So she rescues cats, dogs, a hedgehog, several hamsters, a very aggressive rabbit and lots of people. Somewhere along the way she rescued Stefan, my stepfather, although really Stefan rescued my mother and turned things around. There were less people coming in and it was all less chaotic after he arrived.’
‘Sounds wonderful,’ I say wistfully, thinking it does. This marvellous bohemian lifestyle seems gloriously different and at odds from our very ordinary world where we have a party every year and invite the same people.
I am fed up with doing this, I realise. And Nate knows I’m fed up. But he’s just not listening to me.
‘Yeah,’ she says wistfully. ‘It is. They’re very in love, my mother and Stefan. Makes you almost believe in love.’
I look at her because I swear I can see the glint of tears in her eyes.
‘You OK?’ I ask. ‘Things all right with Finn?’
‘Oh we’re not going out,’ she says almost harshly. ‘We’re friends. I’m not exactly girlfriend material.’
Strange, but she sounds almost childlike for such a practical,grown-up person. I get the sense she’s been badly hurt somehow in the past. And I don’t believe for a second that Finn isn’t interested in her. He’s never brought a female friend to our house before if he wasn’t interested in them romantically. Never.
I decide that some matchmaking is in order.
‘Just nipping out to the hall to er ... check something,’ I say.
The mistletoe is in the hall. I’m going to hand it to Finn and tell him he’s going to lose this lovely woman if he doesn’t do something. Delighted with my plan, I rush out only to see Nate and Angie coming back into the house, clearly after being outside, both looking as if something has just gone on.
They don’t see me in the dimly lit hall and I step back into the doorway, shaken.
Nate and Angie? What were they doing outside? Kissing? What other explanation could there be? I knew there was something wrong. Knew it.
She’s the difference. He’s having an affair with her. Is he?Shebought him that damned shirt. Or am I imagining it? I’ve always felt so anxious around her – now my insecurities are rushing through me and I can’t think straight.
I wait for them to join the others in the living room and then slip upstairs, locking myself in our bathroom. I can’t cry when we’ve a houseful of guests but I feel as if my world has just ended. If I’m right, it just has.
After a moment, I sit up, dab away the tears under my eyes and determine that I can’t be right. I just can’t. I must have misunderstood.
I’ve left my phone up here on the dressing table out of the way and I have a quick check now, several notifications flashing up on the screen. One is a message from Bea:
Sorry, Marin, I got held up and won’t make it after all. Happy Christmas xx
I deflate a little – it would have been lovely to have Bea’s warm, calm influence here right now. I hope she’s OK.
Heading back downstairs to the party, I make my way into the room where all the guests are. Nate and Angie are at the opposite ends of the room and I’d swear there’s a tension between them, almost as if they were arguing.
