‘Och, aye, that whisky stuff is strong,’ Jason groaned.
‘Only if you drink half a bottle,’ said Ross, exchanging a quick look with Izzy. They’d left Graham, Fliss, Jason and Jim to it last night.
‘Wasn’t me,’ he complained. ‘It was Fliss. I was helping her.’
‘The two of you were arguing about who can hold their drink best,’ pointed out Ross. ‘Honestly, the pair of you.’
‘They’re always like this,’ said Izzy, with a shake of her head. ‘Let me guess, Fliss drank you under the table again?’
‘Effing right she did. For a posh bird, she can down it.’ He peered at the turkey. ‘Shouldn’t that be in the oven by now?’
‘Yes, but there’s a slight problem. It’s too big to go in the oven.’
Jason sniggered. ‘That’s a bummer.’
‘It’s all right, Ross is going to cut it in two with an axe.’
‘No bloody way.’ Jason shook his head. ‘Seriously?’
‘Well, what do you suggest?’ asked Izzy, with a trace of belligerence, because seriously she needed to find a solution like half an hour ago.
‘Spatchcock it, of course.’
‘Of course,’ repeated Izzy with a roll of her eyes. ‘What does that even mean?’
Jason began to rifle through the drawers and then, with a shout, held up a pair of short, blunt-nosed scissors. ‘Brilliant. Poultry shears. Let me, lady and gentleman, show you how to spatchcock a turkey.’
Wielding the shears, Jason gave them a quick butchery masterclass, cutting the backbone out of the turkey and flattening it on to a bigger baking tray.
‘Thank you so much,’ said Izzy, very grateful that he was here and the Carter-Joneses weren’t.
‘Glad to be of service. Now, have you got any paracetamol? I’ve got a banging headache. Whoever said whisky was the water of life flamin’ lied.’
‘Merry Christmas, Izzy,’ said Jeanette, skipping down the last few stairs into the hall with Jim at her heels. ‘Look what Jim bought me.’ She held out a hand to show off a pretty silver bangle. ‘And my mum sent us some money as a belated wedding gift for a honeymoon. I’m so happy that she’s forgiven me.’ Jeanette’s face glowed with happiness.
‘Aw, that’s wonderful, Jeanette.’ Izzy gave her a hug. ‘Happy Christmas. Come and have a glass of Bucks Fizz.’ Ross and Jason had been quite insistent that they all met in the hallway for drinks before breakfast. Despite his hangover, Jason cheerfully stood in the centre of the room, serving Bucks Fizz to everyone as they arrived.
‘Merry Christmas!’ Alicia’s voice boomed from the gallery above and then she came gliding down the stairs in a full-length red tartan taffeta dress with a black bodice. She greeted Xanthe with a hug and they exchanged their familiar parakeet shrieks of love, approval and amazement, before Alicia turned to Izzy. ‘Happy Christmas, darling, you looked positively blooming. You obviously had a good night.’
‘Mother,’ protested Ross, although his mouth twitched as he rolled his eyes.
‘Thanks, Alicia,’ said Izzy with an awkward laugh, hoping she wasn’t blushing too much.
‘Where’s Fliss?’ asked Jeanette, looking around anxiously, making indiscreet signals to Jim and Duncan who were making equally indiscreet ‘what?’ signals back to her.
‘I’m here,’ said Fliss, appearing in a beautiful pink silk dress, having taken off her apron.
‘Good, we’re all here.’ Jeanette tapped the side of her glass, bringing to mind an officious pixie.
When everyone quieted, she lifted her glass. ‘I’d like to propose a toast to our amazing hostess, Izzy, who has made us all feel so at home. She’s so kind, generous and welcoming and I don’t know of many other people who would have taken in two waifs and strays and then given them a job. Even before we came to live in the house, you were kind. Didn’t say anything about us camping on your land. Said we could help ourselves to wood. So we did…’ She gave Jim and Duncan an extremely unsubtle go-do-something hard stare and as they slipped out of the front door, there was one of those awkward no-one-knows-what-to-do silences for a couple of seconds. Then, to everyone’s immediate relief, they staggered back into the room carrying the most beautiful log bench with a big red ribbon tied around the back rest.
‘Merry Christmas, Izzy!’ yelled Jeanette. ‘Thank you for giving us a home and a chance … well, we can’t thank you enough.’
Duncan and Jim put the bench down in front of Izzy.
‘Jim made it,’ Jeanette said proudly.
Izzy reach out to touch the soft satin finish of the pale bench seat, which had been highly polished, contrasting with the weathered bark edge details on the back and the arms. ‘It’s lovely,’ she said, feeling tears welling up in her eyes before scooping Jeanette in a hug, slopping her drink all over the floor. ‘It is lovely, thank you. Thanks, Jim, it’s amazing. Did you really make this?’
