13.
Define good …
‘Come on in, Libby, this is Bill, and it’s SO GREAT YOU’RE HERE!’
Obviously I’m lying, and over compensating for the shock with volume because when I listen to myself, I’m actually yelling. I’m frantically trying to get everyone past the bare kitchen tree, whooshing them along, hoping if we hurry through the entrance hall will be finished enough to give the impact we need.
As I wave Libby’s four kids in it’s like pages of Libby’s latest earth-friendly child wear catalogue flicking past under my nose. Tomas is the eldest and is almost a teenager, but he’s shot up two feet since I last saw him, and seems to have swapped smiley tractor prints for attitude and a black puffa jacket that’s so big he could fit a bed inside there as well as himself. He’s also keeping his hat on indoors, and it’s pulled even further down than mine, so we have an instant bond. Then there are the girls, Tiffany and Tansy, who are ten and eight, and the youngest boy Tarquin who’s coming up to five. And if ever I’m confused as to who belongs to who, my clue is – Libby’s kids’ names all begin with a T.
Fliss’s three year old, Oscar, fist bumps me as he bounces past, but it was probably accidental. He’s jumping and punching the air, and the stick he’s waving around is the size of a small telegraph pole.
Fliss’s kiss hits my cheek. ‘Okay, Ivy-star?’ She’s clutching baby Harriet whose squawk rips my ear drum and as Fliss sags into my hug I can feel her weariness. ‘We set off yesterday or we might not have got here at all.’
‘It’s lovely to see you, Fliss.’ I mean it this time. She’s so much smaller than me, my chin’s wedged against her messy up-do and I just know her hair hasn’t been brushed in a week. Beyond the tangles I can see Bill dipping in and out of a box like it’s a jumble sale, helping the kids out of their coats and into Cockle Shell Castle sweatshirts.
Where Fliss is small, rounded, and soft as an eiderdown, Libby’s diminutive frame is as taut as Madonna’s in her break dance days when she carried a ghetto blaster round on her shoulder, wore skin tone fishnets and danced the arses off the guys in the street with her skimpy leotard. As I watch Libby peeling off her cashmere roll neck and wiggling into a powder blue version of the Christmas sweatshirt, the diamanté Gucci hair slide is sparkling as she reclips it. ‘Getting the freebies in early – Bill, is it? Let’s hope it’s not downhill from here.’
For now I’ll let him claim them. It’s just lucky I ordered extras, they have to be running out.
Next thing, Bill’s striding over to Fliss. ‘Peacock blue okay for you?’
I’m blinking because that’s the exact one I’d picked out for her. Then my eyes open wider.
As he scoops Harriet out of Fliss’s arms and hands her the sweatshirt, Harriet’s wailing stops.
I’m staring at him. ‘That baby’s cried non-stop for eleven months, how the hell did you do that?’
He gives a shrug. ‘Years of practice.’ He’s balancing Harriet in the crook of his arm and she’s cooing at him, poking his cheeks with her pudgy fingers.
I’ve fallen for his bollocks once too often, he’s not getting me again. ‘Really …’
He raises an eyebrow at me. ‘Of course not, it’s beginners’ luck. Desperate times and all that, from now on I’ll be keeping out of the way of everyone under eighteen. You take her now.’ A second later she lands on my stomach and I slide her onto my hip, then gently ease her back to Fliss.
Then he turns to the rest of them as they pull down their sweatshirts and smile at the sequins. All apart from Libby, obviously. ‘So if you’d all like to come this way and follow Ivy, we’ll show you the rest of the castle.’
‘Here we go, wait for it …’ I’m talking under my breath, pulling a face at Fliss. The tree might be huge but whatever we’ve done to make the castle better, it’s so different from what Libby bought into. When she doesn’t get what she orders her eruptions are legendary. So far what she’s seen are the good bits, and she’s looking really sour. Given the serious lack of luxury in the parts ahead, therehasto be trouble coming.
With the blast about to break over our heads, as we make our way towards the hall I’m kicking myself … if only I hadn’t gone to bed, if only I’d tracked the orders better, if only I’d argued less with Bill and twigged they were on their way. I mean, after five days I’m almost used to the rocky walls but when you see them for the first time they look seriously cave-like. I’ve been holding my breath all the way from the kitchen, and as we burst through into the hallway I’m waiting for the light glinting off the miniature bottles and the sea shells spinning on their ribbons. The scent of fresh pine tree as we take in the thousands of tiny stud lights between the branches. Desperate for them to save us.
But mostly what we see are Miranda, Keef and assorted surfies, still swarming over the branches hanging the last of the shells. It’s so messy and unprofessional I know we’re totally done for.
For once Bill’s refined accent’s working in our favour, let’s hope he’s got enough sense to hurry Libby through. ‘So this is the entrance hall.’
Libby blinks. ‘I see you’re making the most of product placement.’
From Bill’s frown, he hasn’t got a clue what she’s talking about. ‘Excuse me?’
‘Your gin on my Instagram feed – you’ll end up owing us if we’re not careful.’
Bill sends her an appalled stare. ‘Jeez, I hope you’re joking, the whole point of a tiny distillery is to keep the brand unknown. Gin lovers discovering the secret for themselves is what keeps the price high.’ In which case he really should have said earlier.
I’m rolling my eyes and willing him to shut up. ‘With her millions of followers you might have blown that one, shall we move on through?’
Bill shakes himself back. ‘Sure, so this leads through to the …’
Just before he claims it as a chill out space I jump in again. ‘… these are the family areas. Aren’t the log fires amazing?’ They certainly are to me, they weren’t there when I left for the beach. But burning in the monumental fireplaces, their warmth and the flickering glow has made the whole room come alive, and made the spaces feel ten times more festive and cosy in the fading afternoon light.
Bill’s dashing ahead of us. ‘We’ll put the guards across straight away now you’re here.’
