27.
Chestnuts roasting on an open fire …
with bells on
‘Anchovy, mushroom, and brie, and a spicy pepperoni with double cheese coming up.’ Bill is giving a running commentary as he pulls the trays of pizza out of the oven later and slides them onto the serving boards on the kitchen work surface.
It’s teatime and the film fest is already well underway. We began withThe Snowman, moved on toElf, and then we left Fliss with a few surfies and the kids in the family room while the rest of us came out to prepare the food. Obviously if she’s anywhere within a hundred yards of the action, Libby has to take charge. As she’s so mini she can barely see over the island unit, she piled up a couple of Ambie’s empty champagne crates and stood on those. Once she’d got an overview of the kitchen she allocated all the jobs in a flash then shouted instructions how to do them as we went along. Willow has been filling huge glass bowls with colourful salads, taking them through to the tables in the family room as she finishes them, I have been rolling out the dough they’d made earlier on the baking sheets, and Milo and Bill have been on toppings – or more to the point they’ve been fighting over them.
You name it, they’ve had a stand off about it. Everything from how to de-seed the peppers to whether the tomato sauce should be spread with a spoon or a spatula. They snarled their way through deciding how big to make the brie chunks, Milo was strutting around insisting one bit of the cheese grater was more right than another. I mean, guys, it’s cheese, just grate it! Then Bill was getting all superior about how many olives to use and what colour they should be. Please, men, just shut the eff up and throw them on!
Someone needs to tell them, Christmas is the season of goodwill, people are supposed to get on. We’re not aiming for Michelin stars here – edible will do. That’s the ridiculous part – they both sound like they know what they’re doing, but when they lock horns progress stops completely. In the end Libby had to get down from her box and give them a damn good talking to and the same glare she uses for Tarkie when he’s cheeking Miranda, and literally draw lines across the worktop and the job list.
Bill’s staring at me as he goes in with the pizza wheel to slice the pizza that’s come out of the oven. ‘How about pineapple? Where do you stand on that?’ The man is actually as much a whizz at slicing pizza as he is at getting the toppings on but I have no idea what he’s getting at here.
‘If you’re asking about Keef’s joggers, I know the pineapple motifs are pretty huge and hideously bright, but I reckon he’s got the panache to carry them off. That’s probably why they’d been given away in the first place, someone lost their nerve.’
He’s rolling his eyes. ‘Ivy-star, we’re cooking pizza not trousers – everyone asks these days, and I just wondered, do you take yours with pineapple chunks … or not?’
Oh that. Why didn’t he just say?
‘Hell no, I can’t stand pineapple – except in cocktails, then I love it – or at least I used to.’
He gives my arm a punch, ‘I’m the same, pineapple gets the thumbs down from me on pizzas every time.’
Lucky for me, this time there are two layers of sweater to mop up the tingle where he touches me. ‘Which means, in the unlikely event we’re ever in the same town again after Christmas,andif we happen to be in the same supermarket,andwe end up hitting the freezer aisles at the same moment, what with liking the same ice creamandpizza, we’ll probably be looking in the same cabinets.’
He smiles at me. ‘Exactly. And when that happens, I promise I’ll open the freezer door for you.’
‘Thanks, I’ll look forward to it.’ Except of course it totally won’t happen. Not ever. The day after Boxing Day we’ll all speed away back to London, and I’ll never have to see him again. Which should make me happier than it does. I’d assumed being around him would get easier. You’d think that after ten days the whole good-looks wow-factor tummy-flip thing would have worn off. But if anything it’s got worse rather than better. Seriously, the thought of being freed from that and of never seeing him again should be making me jump for joy, so I have no idea why it’s giving me a pang in my chest.
As he does the last roll of the pizza cutter he looks across to Milo. ‘Okay, where’s the pen? I need to make labels for these.’
I give a silent wooohooo, because I can’t believe my luck here. All the time hanging round his bedroom and I still haven’t seen so much as a scrawled note. And I know I sound a bit obsessive, but I’m still on the look-out for the phantom muffin baker. One glance at Bill’s writing and I can rule him out of the search. To be fair, I need all the help I can get with this, I’m running seriously short of suspects.
At the far end of the island unit, Milo gives a snort. ‘Nice try, mate. You heard Libby – labels aremydomain and that’s how it’s staying.’ The taunting way he waggles the pen and pad, he’s really enjoying this. ‘So you tell me what to write then I’ll pass them over to you.’
Damn. So close and yet still so far away. There’s no way Milo’s backing down on this, so I leave them to it, and turn to Miranda who’s coming into the kitchen.
‘Hey, you’re looking glamourous, are you going to be warm enough?’ She’s swapped her many layers of jumpers and ladder ripped leggings for a slinky dress and sheer black tights. The strappy high heel boots with studs are the only part of the outfit that looks anything like what she’d normally wear.
‘The dress is a present from Ambie, it was meant for Christmas Day, but he asked me to wear it tonight.’ She pulls at the fabric. ‘It’s on the thin side, but I left him on his own a lot today so I didn’t want to say no to this.’
I’m smiling to encourage her because she doesn’t look completely comfortable in the body skimming, streamlined satin. I’ve never seen her go for such formalised sequin and beaded embellishment either, she’s always been more of a scatter queen. ‘It’s gorgeous, such a Christmassy colour, and so many sparkles.’
She gives a little shrug and pinches her cheeks. ‘Oh dear, red tends to drain me, and it’s much more uptight than I’d usually choose, and a lot less forgiving with my bulges. I feel a bit like I’m wearing someone else’s clothes not mine.’
I’m still picking up that she needs reassurance. ‘You look stunning, and you’ll be able to pop a waterfall cardi or two over it later so you feel more like yourself.’
‘Thanks, sweetheart.’ Her hand lands on my arm. ‘Sometimes I feel Ambie wishes I were less quirky and more conventional. He’s much moreMarks and SparksthanSpanky Dungeon.’
And I wish my alarm bells weren’t clanging so loudly. ‘You stay true to yourself, Miranda, I’m sure Ambie will grow to love your bondage biker boots and ironic fairy corset dresses, given time. You could always skip the ripped fishnets.’
She gives a throaty chortle. ‘But they’re my favourite part.’ Then she shrugs away a shudder and starts to smile again. ‘It’s lovely having you here sticking up for me. And I’ve been sent to get high chairs for Oscar and Harriet, I’d love a hand with those too.’
‘Sure, they’re over here, let’s take one each, and I’ll light the tea lights in the family room at the same time.’
As we make our way across the kitchen Miranda lowers her voice. ‘Between us I’d hoped Ambie would help, but he’s on the sofa.Again.’She pauses to pull a face. ‘Once he sits down unless there’s a drink on offer, it’s as if his bum is superglued to the cushions. If we’re talking about people changing, I would not be sorry if he moved once in a while.’
