“Do I think Lizzie looks like Shari? Um, well, she definitely has her eye shape and skin tone.” I'm a little confused at the question.
Grace barks a small but sharp laugh, “Well, yes, I see what you mean, but that's not what I was asking. Do you and Shari get along?”
“Oh, sorry! I feel so silly,” my cheeks heat with mortification, “Yes, I think so. She's been so lovely and welcoming. I must sayI was really nervous about meeting her because I'd built her up to be some intimidatingly hard person in my head. I don't even really know why, but…” I trail off, gathering my thoughts. “Well, regardless of the why, I'm thankful I was wrong.”
Grace eyes me as she dishes the vegetables. “Hmmm. You know, I'm guilty of having made some unfair assumptions about Shari before I got to know her. And I, too, am thankful that I was wrong. She's been wonderful, honestly. It's good that you get along, because it would be a shame for you if Brad ever had to choose between you.”
My stomach sinks as I stir the gravy. Why would she say that? It's almost like she's trying to warn me, but...why?
“Come, let's get all this food onto the table and feed the heathens before it descends into chaos in the other room.”
Before long, we're all sat at the dining table to eat. The spread is enough to feed my entire school, and it all looks and smells incredible. Turkeyandbeefandgammon, roasters, mash, swede, glazed carrots, peas, cabbage, parsnips, Brussels sprouts with chestnuts and bacon, pigs in blankets, bread rolls, stuffing balls, cauliflower cheese, yorkies, and of course, gravy. My stomach growls as everyone starts dishing up their plates.
“How come you didn't come over with Brad and Shari yesterday, Larissa?” Hettie asks as she tears into a bread roll, and at Lizzie's squawk she amends, “And Lizzie, of course. No one could forget you, Tiny Madam!”
“I spent Christmas with my family so the timing wouldn't have worked, unfortunately.”
“Oh, do you guys do a whole day and overnight thing?”
I'm slightly confused at the question at first but reply anyway, “Well, not all night, we're all usually fairly knackered and stuffed by about seven or eight p.m.”
Hettie's eyes flick to her brother, whose attention is fixed on wiping gravy from Lizzie's hair. “Oh? Well, they didn't get heretil after seven. Seems a shame you had to drive all this way by yourself today is all.”
I turn to Brad, “You didn't come over until last night?”
“No, sweetie. I told you Shari, Lizzie and I were doing our own small Christmas together first,” he seems genuinely bewildered by my question, but a small pit forms in my stomach and I can't pinpoint why.
“Yes, yeah, you did. I guess I just assumed you meant in the morning and that you'd be headed here around lunch. Sorry, it was my misunderstanding,” I force a small smile, but that pit doesn't go away.
“No, I’m sorry, Riss. I thought you knew what I meant, I didn't even think to clarify,” he grabs my hand under the table and I notice everyone has gone silent, watching our exchange.
“It's no matter,” I wave him off and aim for a bright tone, “Did you have a nice day, the three of you?”
Shari laughs from her seat opposite Brad as they share a tender look. “We did, but there were so many presents for one tiny person that we couldn't walk through the lounge without tripping on something! Never mind obstacle course, it was a minefield. Poor Pickles kept having toys and wrapping paper taken off him every time he tried to sneak off with something.” She looks over her shoulder to where Pickles himself is sat drooling, waiting for some scraps.
Brad chuckles along with her, his eyes shining with mirth, and for that moment, I feel like an outsider. Like I'm intruding on their family and I don't belong. The feeling is almost suffocating, but thankfully the conversation moves on, giving me time to regroup.
After the meal, we retreat into the lounge with hot drinks and biccies. Brad drops onto the love seat and drags me to sit down next to him, whilst Shari plops down on the carpet with Lizzie,next to his legs. “Oh! Shari, do you want to sit here? You don't have to sit on the floor, I can move.”
She smiles up at me, “Thank you, Larissa, you're very sweet, but there's no point in me sitting on a chair. Lizzie will have me on the floor in minutes anyways.” And sure enough, Lizzie immediately commands her mother to lie on the carpet so she can play doctor with her new plastic medical kit.
“When does your school go back in the New Year, Larissa?” Grace asks, sipping her mulled wine.
“Officially, we teachers are back in on the fifth of Jan but it's an inset day, so the kids don't come back until the sixth.”
“Bloody inset days,” Grace grumbles, “they used to drive me mad when these two were at school and we were both working.”
I don't really know how to respond to that, so I just stare into my mug, trying not to choke on my chocolate Hobnob.
“Mum, don't be rude. Larissa doesn't make the rules,” Brad chastises as he wraps his arm around me, protectively.
“Sorry, Larissa. I didn't mean that to sound like I was aiming it at you.”
“Oh, that's ok. I understand it can be quite frustrating for parents.”
The conversation marches on again, and after a while I notice Shari lean her head back onto the seat cushion by Brad's knee with her eyes closed. She must be exhausted if she's been up with Lizzie since five o’clock this morning, as she told me earlier.
“I nearly forgot! I brought gifts. Let me go and grab them, two seconds!” I jump up and rush into the hallway, where I left my bag. When I return, Brad's hand is stroking Shari's hair softly, and that pit in my stomach makes itself known again. When his thumb starts rubbing back and forth along her forehead, the pit turns into a chasm. I don't think he's even conscious that he's doing it, which makes it worse, somehow.
