‘Nonsense, we need you. Belle is the queen of all things Christmas. There is nothing she doesn’t know.’
I definitely grimace at that.
‘We need you on our team. Usually I’ve got sports covered…’ Dave says, ‘geography and politics is Eve…’ A woman of similar age to Alison smiles and nods ‘…we have Janet on popular culture—’
‘There’s nothing I don’t know aboutCelebs Go DatingandNaked Attraction,’ says the woman sat next to Eve and wearing a Christmassy sweater that says ‘Like A Virgin’. Of course this is Janet. How could it not be?
‘And Ally has literature and history but we need you onside,’ Dave continues. ‘Even if Rory makes it, we know he’s … well, not madly into Christmas even before … um… Anyway, he’s got caught up with something work-related and we really want to beat Steve’s team over there.’ He nods towards a table that looks very serious, with one member even sharpening pencils. I look back at this table, everyone with festive jumpers on – I should have bought that hat – and a look in their eyes like I may be the one to save Christmas for them. Shit.
‘So weneedyou.’ Alison pats the cushion again and Dave beams at me. Eve and Janet are nodding to back them both.
Rory is caught up. He isn’t going be here. My stomach dips with disappointment at the exact time my brain reminds me what a relief this is. I can stay, not hurt Alison’s feelings, have a nice evening and then leave and by the time Rory knows that I was here he will be heading back to Australia anyway and I won’t have to see the pity on his face.
I sit down and squidge on up.
The bell rings and the quiz begins, with questions coming in thick and fast. I am amazed at how competitive the lovely Alison is, and the breadth of her knowledge.
‘Dominican Republic,’ Alison hisses with the ferocity of a stage villain as she answers a question about where people begin their Christmas Celebrations in October. She has almost jumped out of the seat with excitement that she knows and that the pencil-sharpening team looked bemused by the question.
‘How do you know that?’ I ask.
‘My old neighbour is from Santo Domingo but I’ve been reading up for this.’
‘Definitely a tradition I can get behind. Shall we move? Little bit of Caribbean sunshine for our Christmas next year.’ I giggle.
‘Next question…’ The quizmaster, who is dressed in a beautifully cut three-piece wool suit, silk tie and matching artfully angled handkerchief and has dreadlocks so long they are doubled up, shoots us a look that manages to combine both the widest grin and eyes that firmly say, ‘Shut up for a minute.’ I like him. ‘What was the traditional Christmas meal in England before turkey became popular?’
‘Ooh, I know this. It’s a pig’s head and um … um … mustard, it’s mustard,’ I hiss at the team. I’m loving this and learning tons of stuff.
Although how anyone is supposed to know how many houses per second Santa has to visit to get all of his deliveries done, I don’t know. The quizmaster gives us a margin of error of twenty, not enough, and there is some very irritating fist-bumping coming from the other table. I don’t want to wish them ill – although Alison’s filthy looks are sending bubonic plague levels of ill over there – and the results haven’t been counted yet but they really do need to dial down their levels of smug.
Somehow Dave knows it was twelfth-century French nuns that started the tradition of putting an orange in the bottom of the stocking.
‘He may not know much about history but he seems to have the habits of nuns ingrained in his brain!’ Alison confides in me with an arch lift of her brows.
‘Very niche.’ I waggle mine back.
‘She gave me one of those novelty books one Christmas about nuns when she was threatening to leave me for a convent!’ Dave immediately responds.
‘You were going to become a nun?’ I ask, interest piqued.
‘Of course not, but it’s best to keep him on his toes, make him think I may have a better offer.’
‘She’s always been very comfortable in a costume and on her knees!’ Dave jokes and Alison hits him with a coaster.
‘She’s not the only one.’ Janet guffaws.
‘Forgive him, Belle. He hasn’t learnt that we live in the twentieth-first century and his humour hasn’t been acceptable since the seventies.’
‘My friend Temperance would say there’s no better offer than being a Bride of Christ!’ I giggle.
‘And she’d be right. I hope you’re listening to this, Dave, no better offer! I’ve heard about this Temperance, Rory says that she … ooh, Dave, go!’
The dapper quizmaster has rung an old-fashioned bell to signify that the quiz has reached half time. Dave practically leaps out of his chair and, taking our orders, hotfoots it to the bar. Eve and Janet get up with equal speed to peg it to the loo.
‘I’m so glad you’re here, Belle.’ Alison reaches out and puts her hand across mine.
‘Me too. But tell me, how are you?’ I say quietly, so to escape earshot of anyone at neighbouring tables. I haven’t see her since her op, though Rory has filled me in with a lot of it. But as supportive and empathetic as a son can be, or a husband, I don’t think they can truly empathise with what it must feel like to be preparing yourself to go under the knife like that. I know now is neither the time or place but I want her to know I care and am an ear should she ever want it.
