I’m quite glad, though, when everyone begins to leave. It’s been strangely tiring this evening, with all the emotion of this being our first Christmas without Dad, coupled with the conversations I’ve had to have about Jed.
Dominic’s one of the last to leave. As he goes, we vaguely smile at each other and then my mum suddenly trips and falls against me, and I get pushed right under the mistletoewithDominic.
‘You need tokiss,’ trills Mum.
I take a moment to hope very heartily that she never drinks a drop of alcohol ever again, before finding myself staring at Dominic’s admittedly unusually beautifully shaped mouth and remembering kissing him all those years ago. The fine lines etched on his face suit him. He didn’t have those when we were younger. I’m not sure quite why at the beginning of the evening I thought he wasn’t that attractive any more.
I look up into his eyes and see that he’s been gazing at my mouth too. There’s a weird moment ofnothing, and then we both blink too much, and then do fake laughs and air-kiss each other and wish each other anextremelyenthusiastic happy Christmas.
And then everyone’s finally gone and Mum kicks her shoes off (she loves a very high court shoe andalwayshas sore feet at the end of any kind of social event) and announces that she’s going to do her raffle draw.
I catch Vinny and Amelie, and then Antonio and Dai, giving each other glances (and remember that Jed and I really did not in recent times have that lovely unspoken communication that happily-together couples have), and then Amelie and Dai both say that they’re going up to bed, clearly so that Mum can be alone with her three children for the end of the evening.
Mum’s gone to Dad’s old study, which she has decided she should make hers rather than leaving it as a mausoleum to him, which, while another sad reminder that he’s gone, is definitely the right decision for her. She calls through to us to say that she’s just finalising her raffle draw, while Antonio tells us that we all need a Christmas Eve hot chocolate, and puts the kettle on.
He’s just set four mugs topped with marshmallows down on the table when Mum comes into the room, a big beam on her face.
‘You will not believe what’s happened.’ She joins us at the table and wraps her hands round her warm mug.
We all wait while she takes a sip.
Eventually, Vinny says, ‘So whathashappened?’
‘Well. I wish I had a drum roll for this.’ She pauses dramatically. ‘Flaviahas won the main prize in the raffle.’
‘Really!’ I’m very surprised, because I don’t win things. I’m also pleased, because I’m guessing from Mum’s happy face that it’s agoodprize. ‘What is it?’
‘A safari!’ she says. ‘Over New Year!’
‘What?’ I ask, stunned.
‘I know. How wonderful!’ She’s still beaming, apparently unaware that a lot of people, me included, while obviously recognising that a safari would be an amazing thing to do (I have never done one), don’t necessarily want to be told on Christmas Eve that they’re going on a safari in a few days’ time. I mean, I am of course very grateful to have won such an amazing prize, but I think I’d have liked a little bit more notice. I’m also embarrassingly childishly scared of lions, but I’m sure I could get round that somehow.
‘Can I… change the dates?’ I ask. I don’t feel like I own the right clothes for a safari and there aren’t many shopping days over Christmas. And I have plans for New Year’s Eve. I’d love to go in a few months’ time instead. I’m usually keen on spontaneous things, but right now, after the huge upheaval I’ve had in the past few months in ending my marriage, moving continents and finding a new job and a flat, this feels like one piece of spontaneity too many.
‘I think Flavia might need some details like where, how long for, are flights booked and paid for, who with. The basics,’ Vinny suggests.
‘Who donated such a cool prize?’ Antonio asks.
‘Your father and I booked it at the beginning of the year as a treat for ourselves. We would obviously have told you all about it, but he fell ill very shortly afterwards and then I forgot about it. I only really thought about it again recently, and decided that I would donate it to the raffle rather than go through yet more admin to get a refund.’ Mum has had to do a lot of very tricky admin this year. The three of us have of course helped her with it to the best of our ability, but we haven’t been able to relieve her of all of it and there’s been alot. Both private and governmental organisations really could have more empathy and make things easier for bereaved people.
‘So are we going together?’ I’d love to go with her.
‘No, I’m not going.’ She smiles at me, her eyes suddenly looking a little misty, and I feel bad for having asked; she probably can’t bear the thought of going without Dad. I shift along the sofa towards her and pull her into a hug.
‘The details?’ Antonio prompts Mum.
‘South Africa. Flying to Cape Town. All paid for. Leaving on the evening of the twenty-eighth and home on the morning of the second. Just a short trip. Table Mountain, a night in Cape Town, a two-day safari in a game reserve, back to Cape Town for a New Year’s Eve beach party and then lunch on New Year’s Day and home that evening. It’s all in an organised group.’ Mum’s rattled the facts out so fast that I haven’t fully kept up, possibly because I’m still just soastonished.
‘Wow,’ I say. ‘Sounds amazing.’ I feel guilty about the fact that I still can’t help wishing I’d had more time to prepare.
‘I’m so excited for you.’ Mum’s eyes are sparkling and she’s smiling and generally looking happy in a way that has rarely happened since we lost Dad.
I look to my left and mouthgaahat Antonio, who incredibly helpfully just shrugs.
I do the same in Vinny’s direction, and he mouthsSorryand says, ‘Sounds amazing.’
‘Erm.’ I’m still wondering whether there’s any chance of switching the trip to Easter for example.
