You should try sharing the tasks out more! Angus always wraps presents while I write the tags and we have a great time cooking together
Rosie
We love you, Li, but we’re not coming to your party, which no doubt Angus will have co-organised and prepared in a perfect fifty-fifty split with you, if you don’t stop showing off.
Rosie added a kissing emoji as if that took the snark out of her comment.
Rina
What say you, Mary? Is Christmas a patriarchy-driven scourge on women?
Mary
Maybe it’s up to us to draw the line? My mum has never cooked a Christmas dinner in her life. We had one present each, a few paper chains made from old Socialist Lawyer magazines, and the closest we got to celebrating as a family was someone asking for a hand with a crossword clue.
Personally, I’m looking forward to me and Bob creating some Christmas memories to treasure. I want him to look back and remember that we both enjoyed a magical time together. I guess it’ll take a while to figure out what that looks like for us. Do what brings happiness, to you as much as everyone else. If that’s a five-course banquet, hand-printed wrapping paper and carols around the piano, go for it. If it’s a takeaway pizza in non-Christmas pjs and a bunch of gift vouchers, then all power to you.
Li
If ever we doubted Mary was a true coffee mum…
Sofia
Even if I am now craving a large pepperoni.
What are you having for Christmas dinner, Mary? I hope Beckett is doing his share!
And there it was, jabbing at me like a reindeer headbutting my chest. I was so sick and tired of missing people. Leo and my friends had been too much – raw, painful, paralysing. This time, I felt as though every vital organ had been bruised and battered. Whenever I thought about Beckett – which, let’s be honest, was at least once a minute; his kindness and generosity were scattered in every corner of my home – it made me sad, of course, but, more than that, ‘taking a bit of time apart’ simply felt wrong.
I typed out a dozen messages, ranging from jokey:
Mary
Is this enough time apart? Because I spent ages choosing your Christmas present and can’t be bothered to return it
To heartfelt and rambling:
Mary
Can we talk? Because I don’t think the kiss was rash, or a mistake. I miss you, Beckett. If you can’t be more than friends, I understand, and I will never cross that line again, but it would really help if you could explain why, because I’m miserable without you.
I deleted every single one.
Li’s gathering started at three, so I arrived at half past, hoping it would be busy enough for me and Bob to blend into the crowd. Her home had been transformed yet again. I’d have predicted tasteful decorations in silver or gold, but instead every room was now a multichromatic riot. Coloured lights hung around the edge of the ceilings, paper baubles the size of footballs dangled above our heads in a random mix of red, orange, teal and sunshine yellow. Sofas and chairs were covered in spotty, stripy or swirly blankets while wreaths, stockings and various other shimmering, glittery or light-up ornaments hung on every bare patch of wall. Every surface was laden with canapés and miniature festive treats. Tiny Christmas puddings, smoked salmon and cream cheese bagels that could be eaten in one mouthful, cocktail sausages, Brie and cranberries on postage-stamp squares of toast. Li was wearing a dress covered in rainbow sequins with silver tights, and I felt positively dull in my dark red jumpsuit, even with a gold belt.
Glancing around the room, I had to smile as I compared it to the Christmas Eve bonfire party, which was amateur chaos in comparison. Nevertheless, the sudden pang for a bowl of lamb curry, a sparkler and people who’d known me forever made my breath catch in my chest.
And then, a deeper longing. I’d guessed that Beckett wouldn’t be there, given that he’d know I would be. I still couldn’t help scanning the clusters of people, in case he’d decided he could handle being in a crowded room with me, after all.
The room felt somehow empty without him. I felt like a clumsy, miserable stranger. The effort of walking up to people and inserting myself into their conversation demanded energy and confidence I simply didn’t possess right then. I decided instead to find a seat in a corner, preferably next to a person I’d never met before, so if they insisted on chatting I could keep it to vague trivialities.
I should have known better. After Sofia immediately came and asked for a cuddle with Bob, I spent the next hour or so nodding uncomfortably and saying awkward thank yous as at least half of the party guests came to congratulate me on the carol-concert costumes, wonder where I’d learned to sew like that, or suggest I set up a business.
‘I have,’ I said, eventually running out of polite responses.
‘You have?’ Sofia asked, breaking off her chat with someone else to spin around and stare at me. Bob was now fast asleep on someone else. ‘What business? You said you’d helped out friends on a market stall.’
‘I did. But then those friends happened to be fashion wizards who were hugely successful, and we set up a company together.’
