CHAPTER ONE
“Yeah, this is the place.”
NEL
My Uber pulls up outside my brother’s home. It’s a two-storey, brick building with wisteria vines climbing the façade. Toward the end of December, there are no flowers aside from the large wreath hung on the door, adorned with deep red poinsettias and velvet ribbon. The driveway is big enough for ten Smart Cars or seven normal sized cars, and the house is double the width of the one we grew up in.
“This the right place?” my driver asks awkwardly.
I may have been sat staring for a couple of minutes, trying to gather up my courage and Christmas cheer for the onslaught to come. Hey, I got my nails done in a nice holly-berry red with glittering white snowflakes painted on each one. How much more Christmas spirit can one have? I sigh, “Yeah, this is the place.”
Tipping the guy and collecting my suitcase from the boot, I make my way to the front door, the iffy wheel of my case making it difficult to navigate. One more big breath of cold air to settle the nerves flitting about in the pit of my stomach and I knock on the holly-green door. It swings open with some force and a man I kind of recognise beams at me from behind a thick grey moustache.
“Penelope!” His booming voice can probably be heard throughout Pear Street.
“Hi.” My voice comes out smaller than I would like, and I give a dorky wave as I try and remember this guy’s name. This is my sister-in-law’s father, I’m pretty sure…or maybe her uncle? They look very similar.
“Come on in, duck.” He opens the door wider and steps aside. It’s her dad, I remember from the wedding that he likes to call people duck. Weird, if you ask me.
“Thanks.” I offer a polite smile and haul my suitcase over the threshold. He takes it from me and wheels it to a corner out of the way. Before I know what’s happening, he wraps me in a giant hug, tighter than I find comfortable, and he kisses my cheek, his grey bristles tickling me.
“Your brother is in the kitchen.” He pats my shoulder, his broad smile still in place as he ushers me down the hall.
The wide hallway is adorned with lush looking green garlands winding through the spindles of the staircase. There are foil snowflakes hanging from the tall ceiling and I spot a huge, live tree as I pass the lounge. Not like the old plastic one Dad used to haul out of the attic every December. There are decorations everywhere, none of them tacky or over the top.Shouldn’t there be a little tack at Christmas?
The bright kitchen is also decorated.Is it normal to put Christmas decorations in the kitchen?It’s chock-a-block with people.Jesus. I’m so thankful that I have a hotel room and can escape this bustle at the end of each day while I’m required to endure this picture-perfect family Christmas. It is lightyears away from the family Christmases I’m used to. Without warning, pain lances through my chest as I remember why I’m here and not where I have spent the previous twenty-eight Christmases. I swallow down the thickness in my throat as my brother comes into view with a smile painted on his handsome face. The tightness around his eyes belies his ease.
“Nelly-Belly,” he greets, his smile becoming more genuine as he slings an arm around my shoulders.
“Hey, Harry. How are you doing?” I give him a gentle squeeze.
“Oh, just fine. Lisa’s whole family is here so I’m just trying to keep everyone’s drinks topped up and smiles on faces while I dodge the inevitable ‘I’m sorry about your parents’ pity stare.”
I wince and my hand goes to my chest to rub the heartache away. Harry gives me a small sympathetic smile.
“Just smile and nod. They’ll all say it once, then you can move on.”
I nod. It was hard losing Dad in January, but he’d been ill for a while. We knew last Christmas would be our last with him, so we made sure to spend as much time with him as we could, making memories to hold on to when he’d gone. We just didn’t realise it would be Mum’s last one too. After cancer finally took Dad, Mum just shut down; she was never the same. When summer came, so did her chest pain. We took her to doctors and specialists but no one could find anything wrong until it was too late.Takotsubo cardiomyopathy, also known as broken heart syndrome. That’s what they told us when they patted our arms and apologised for our loss.
So here I am, spending Christmas at my brother’s big expensive house with him and his perfect family and his wife’s oversized extended family. I’m so far out of my comfort zone that I can’t even see the zone anymore. It’s not that I don’t like people, I do, it’s just that I prefer them on a one-on-one setting. Lots of people in one place is so overwhelming that I find myself unable to join in conversations easily or enjoy myself. I was told I come across rude when I shut down—by my brother, at Mum’s funeral. That’s why I need the hotel. It’ll give me a chance to recharge my social battery at the end of each day.
“Hey, thanks for staying at the hotel,” Harry says. “Lisa feels really bad we didn’t have room for everyone, but with her mum helping out so much and her uncle’s hip replacement, it was better for them to stay here. Plus her cousin has the kids, it would be awkward for them travelling back and forth every day—”
“Harry,” I place my hand on his arm lightly. “It’s really okay. I’ll feel better at the hotel, I can get out of everyone’s way.” This was the best part. Harry and Lisa thought I was doingthema favour. My brother would probably be mortally offended if I admitted that I wanted to get away from them at the end of each day. “At least this way you don’t have to cater to me twenty-four-seven.”
Harry laughs and pokes a finger into my soft belly. “Like I can afford to keep you fed twenty-four hours a day.”
Great. Nice Harry lasted all of three minutes. Unfortunately, only one of us was blessed with the best parts of our parents. Harry is tall like Dad was, with sandy blonde hair like Mum’s. His green eyes are hers, too, but his metabolism is Dad’s. The two of them could eat whatever they want, whenever they want, and stay lean and toned. Mum used to say that she only had to look at a slice of cake and she’d gain two pounds, and I’m exactly the same. No matter what diets or work out regimens I try, I can never lose my big belly, flabby arms, or thighs of thunder. I always start strong, losing big numbers in the first few weeks, then I plateau regardless of how strict I am with myself. After a particularly tough time of dieting a few years ago where I’d got to the point of nearly starving myself, I made a very conscious decision that I didn’t want to waste another moment of my life denying myself just to seek approval from others. I worked hard on loving my curves and embracing my natural figure, and after a while I became comfortable in the skin I’m in. Well, most of the time. Harry has an uncanny ability to tear down the confidence I’ve built. I love my brother and I know he loves me; he just never grew out of the big brother teasing stage of siblinghood.
“Come on, Nelly-Belly, let’s go say hi to everyone.”
I feel like I’m in a cramming revision session as Harry reintroduces me to all his in-laws. Lisa’s father, who had let me in, sits at the large dining table with his wife. I’m reminded of their names, Charles and Camilla.I shit you not. How did I forget that? With them is Charles’ brother Gordan and his wife Hen. Gordan looks exactly like Charles—tall and broad, white haired, and blue eyed—luckily Gordan is clean shaven so I should be able to tell them apart easily. What’s weird though is that their wives also look similar. Camilla is petite and delicate with blonde hair streaked with white, her light brown eyes are warm and kind, and her smile bright and genuine. Hen has a similar build but her hair a light brown colour with not a grey in sight. She also has brown eyes and a joyful expression. Hen and Gordan’s daughter, Rhiannon, and her husband Luke are in the kitchen, too, but constantly on the move chasing after their twins, Margot and Freddie.
Everyone is friendly and seems genuinely pleased to see me. A wave of panic hits me. What if I disappoint them when I’m not a great conversationalist or when I don’t have any funny jokes or anecdotes to tell?It’s okay, Nel. One day at a time. Get through the next few hours and then you can soak in the bath of your hotel room where no one can talk at you or ask questions.
Swallowing back my nerves, I am just giving everyone the smile I’d practiced when Lisa comes bustling into the kitchen. My sister-in-law is one of those annoyingly perfect human beings. She’s beautiful with blonde hair that always cascades in perfectly formed wavy curls, naturally slim with big boobs and curvy hips. Although right now her usual figure is hidden by a giant baby bump. She still has two months to go and I can’t imagine her getting any bigger without toppling over. Even without the stunning good looks, she’s enviable. A human rights solicitor, culinary wizard, black belt in karate, and President of the Parent Teacher Association. All this while raising two—soon to be three—kids, living with my brother, and maintaining a permanently immaculate house. To top it all off, she’s so bloody lovely, it’s sickening. I hate her a little bit.
“Nel!” She comes at me with arms open for a hug and I succumb to her embrace, somewhat stiffly. It’s not her, I’m just not a touchy-feely kind of person. It’s weird because my parents were always very affectionate with us, and Harry is with his family. I used to be, but I just hate people touching me. I always feel so…bigin someone else’s arms. That feeling is magnified by the fact that Lisa’s arms barely get round my shoulders as she has to hug around the giant beachball under her festive jumper.
