‘Do you want to see what he looks like?’ Mum says. ‘We could give him a FaceTime? I could thank him for the gift?’
‘No,’ I say, shaking my head. ‘It’s Christmas. Leave him alone. Why don’t we open more gifts? What about your turkey, Mum? I’m sure there are vegetables we need to peel?’
But before I have the chance to toss a present in her direction, she’s dialled. She has his number saved? Where the hell did she learn these skills? I have to help her send emails most days. Terror sears through me. Nan doesn’t know. She could totally blow this. What are you doing?
Brrring, brrring. Dad’s laughing as I sit here panicked, half worried about how my hair looks.
Brrring brrring.
‘Hello, Susie? Heyyyy!’
I hear his voice and I smile. I saw him a week ago. We went to watch a Christmas showing ofDie Hard. We didn’t opt for costumes, but there was no chance to tell him anything in the cinema because there was a film on and we were too busy snogging and giving each other hand jobs in the back row. But aside from the hot sex stuff, it was also another evening of being with him, getting to know those little things about a person that make you fall deeper for them. The care and attention he takes in choosing his sweets, the way his whole face lights up when he laughs, the way he slipped his hand over my waistband, pushed my knickers to one side and knew exactly what would make me lean forward and grab the seat in front of me. All I’ll say is I’m glad that seat was empty.
‘Merry Christmas!’ my mum squeals, high off her Christmas spirit.
I don’t dare get into frame yet. This can just be a quick call for Nan to satisfy her curiosities and for Mum to say thank you.What a wonderful gift, Cameron. How kind. Do you have a favourite Prince song? ‘Raspberry Beret’? Fabulous choice! Greetings of the season to you!Hang up.
‘Cameron, I just opened your present – you sweetheart!’ she continues.
‘You are most welcome. I saw it and I thought of you – please share it with Fabio, though.’
Nan looks at me. You can tell she’s staring at Mum’s dog, trying to work out his name. I thought we called the dog Dave. Who the hell?
‘I will. I’m sorry we didn’t get you anything, I feel awful,’ Mum says.
‘It’s fine, please.’
Dad gets into frame and waves at the screen. ‘Merry Christmas, Cameron. You having a good day?’
‘Oh, yeah. Just chilling.’
They both freeze as he says it, as do I. I’d sent him a Merry Christmas message this morning, but I thought he’d be with his family today and he would need all his nerve and energy to face them. I tentatively move into focus.
‘Hey. Chilling?’ I ask. I see a figure in pyjama bottoms and a hoodie, the hood pulled up over his head with his scruffy hair framing his face.
Nan feels the need to budge in at this rate. ‘I’m the nan. Hello?’
Our four faces peer in at him and he laughs. ‘Hi, Nan. I’m Cameron.’
I see her inspecting him and she glances over at my mum and gives a thumbs up.
‘You’re in your pyjamas,’ I tell him. ‘What’s the deal?’
‘There’s chickenpox in my family. My nephews gave it to Mum, who’s really poorly, one very scabby sister, it’s all a bit of a mess. We decided to cancel today.’
‘So you’re on your own?’ Mum exclaims in horror, like it may be the worst thing she’s ever heard.
‘It’s fine. I was just going to watch some Christmas films and lounge all day.’
‘What are you going to eat?’ Dad asks.
‘Baked beans?’
Mum and Dad shake their heads simultaneously, in slow motion.
‘Come over here, it’s only the four of us. I’ve made a whole turkey,’ Mum says.
As soon as she says it, I pause, feeling my body stiffen. Today? It’s Christmas, that’s pretty big in terms of relationship milestones. And we’re not even in a proper relationship. I can’t keep this up for a whole day especially as I wanted to spend most of it drunk.
