Four Christmases and a Secret. Zara Stoneley
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not mine, I don’t talk like that) which only death or marriage will excuse me from (another thing Dad said). Personally, I think getting married is a bit of a drastic solution, and I do love Uncle T, this party less so.
The only negatives to kicking off Christmas with Uncle T are (1) my mother will be there, (2) she will compare me constantly to the hugely successful and perfect Ollie Cartwright, even though luckily, he won’t be there (he never is), and (3) dodging the mistletoe can be a health hazard. Terence hangs it everywhere, as he seems to want everybody to snog everybody else. If he wasn’t so nice and jolly, I’d suspect he had some weird fetish, but instead I will believe him when he says ‘love makes the world go round’.
It was bad enough when we were eighteen. Just the thought of that drunken totally unplanned snog with Ollie is making me feel all hot and bothered.
The only good thing has been that Ollie has not turned up at a single party since our embarrassing encounter. Which is good, and bad. I mean, back then, we actually might have got on, but we live on different planets now. He has ticked every success box going, I have to look back with fond memories of beating him in a Chemistry exam. Since then my life seems to have taken a dive and whilst he lives on planet-perfect, I meanwhile inhabit a galaxy far, far away where everything is disorganised and success can be measured by how many nearly-passed-their-sell-by-date bargains you manage to grab just before the supermarket closes.
Which makes point (4) on my list – the perfect smile part – even more essential. To be used when my mother asks if I’ve changed my mind about marrying Ollie Cartwright yet (as she knows I haven’t seen him since we were students, then how on earth can she still be dreaming about our happy ever after?). I know she will ask though (probably in front of Vera), even though I will have my own, actual boyfriend with me. This is a win, this is the first time in years that I’ve had a boyfriend who has actually agreed to spend Christmas with me and my family.
7 p.m., 23 December
I have had a truly shit day. Christmas has already got off to a dismal start. I already need to strike (3) off my first list. Simon, my boyfriend, rang me at work.
‘Dais?’
‘Simon?’ This is odd. It sounds like Simon, but Simon never calls me at work. He also never calls me Dais.
‘Slight change of plan, darling.’ When he calls me ‘darling’, he’s either after sex, snacks, or is about to say something he knows I won’t like. It is one of his wheedling words. ‘Have to cancel your Christmas dinner with Mom and Pop.’
‘Why? Oh no! What’s happened, are they okay?’
I try to stop staring at the photo of a missing cat on my screen. It’s tricky, it’s got a weird squint that is hard to ignore. I fear for its safety, a cat like this would not remain missing for long – it would be impossible to ignore.
‘They’re fine. Why wouldn’t they be?’
‘Well, if we’re not …’ I blink, his words have sunk in. ‘Hang on, you said cancel my dinner?’
‘I thought you’d be pleased, far too much food in one day. I mean who can eat two Christmas dinners, ha-ha!’
‘But you’re still going?’
‘Of course, I am, they’re my parents! Look, nothing personal, it’s just there’s not enough room. Lucy,’ his little sister, ‘has made up with that boyfriend of hers, Ralph, Rafe, whatever he’s called, so he’ll be coming.’
‘But …’
‘They don’t really have enough table space for everybody, and you’d make it an odd number.’
‘Why? That’s two extra, Lucy and Rafe.’
‘And Grandmother! Cancelled her cruise cos of her dicky hip. Can’t expect Mom to turn away her aged parent, can you Daisy? Be reasonable!’
‘Of course, I don’t. I didn’t know about that!’ It’s not fair to suggest I’m being unreasonable.
‘Sorry sweets, but Mom’s all excited about a possible engagement announcement so Lucy’s man has to be there! And be fair, she knows them all far better than she knows you, they’re family!’
I’m sticking my lower lip out, I know I am. But the whole point was she would get to know me, but she obviously considers me a ‘a passing fancy’ (he doesn’t say that last bit, but I have assumed it from his tone).
‘Oh right. Fine.’ I’m not sure it is fine. ‘But you are coming to Uncle T’s party tomorrow?’ He has to come, he just has to. I’ve got to prove to Mum I can get at least something right.
‘Probs with your Christmas eve party as well now. It’s a bit awkward but Ralph—’
‘Rafe!’ He doesn’t even remember the name of the damn man who will be tucking into my Christmas dinner.
‘Lucy’s boyfriend asked me to go the local with him, got to chat to the potential brother in law, ha-ha, think he wants to discuss man stuff, proposals and all that.’
‘But you don’t know anything about proposals!’
‘Sorry and all that but didn’t think you’d be bothered.’
Bothered? I can feel my jaw tighten. I’m about to grit my teeth, which the dentist has told me not to do. ‘But I’ve got you a present!’
‘We can swap tonight. It’s only Christmas after all.’
Only Christmas? How can he say that? And how can a pub-date with a potential brother-in-law be more important than coming to Uncle Terence’s with me?
I therefore informed Simon that I no longer wish to meet him this evening as I have far too much preparation to do, and no longer wish to swap presents.
This led to full scale hostilities and him complaining about all kinds of things, including stinky Stanley (he doesn’t stink). ‘It’s me or the dog.’ Simon had actually said, in the midst of our heated conversation about Christmas lunch, when I asked if he was at least going to pop in to Mum and Dad’s for pre-dinner drinks. I’m not sure if he was being funny or not.
I no longer have a boyfriend.
Git.
I cannot believe it. I was so close to being able to stun my mother into silence. To turn up with a proper man-date, but Simon has spoiled it.
Also, just remembered other disadvantage of breaking up with Simon – I didn’t have time to shop at lunch time as I was too heartbroken to buy sausage rolls for party. Who can think of food at a time like that?
Looking on the bright side though, this year for Uncle T’s party, and Christmas dinner, I still have a plus-one. Stanley! He snores, passes wind and likes to try to stick his tongue in my mouth when I’m talking, but you know what? I love him. Sometimes a dog is a way better bet than a man.
2 p.m., 24 December
Disaster! Point 1 on my list is not looking good. I cannot find my flaming Christmas jumper anywhere, despite urgent search last night and again this morning before setting off for work.
I think Uncle Terence started the obligatory Christmas jumper tradition because he knew that we would all get hot and need to strip off at some point. When I was at junior school I thought it was funny, now I’m over thirty having a red nose adorning my boobs isn’t quite as hilarious. However, not wearing said jumper will leave me feeling naked and exposed – I will be the centre of attention, which must be avoided at all costs.
I have left it a little late to buy a new Christmas jumper. I’ve been in every supermarket and clothes shop and I am now in the pound shop. I might have to settle for a hot-chick T-shirt, or a ‘bargain