Guess Who's Coming to Christmas Dinner Read online

  “Curry!” Susi shouted with glee and ran to the door.

  Susi was quite right, Sophie thought as she wiped her plate clean with the last piece of naan bread. Chili and garlic really had helped clear her nose. The amount of left overs would happily feed her for another two days she calculated, looking at the array of cartons strewn over the coffee table, then scolded herself for thinking such meagre thoughts.

  Susi had taken her gorgeous purple suede boots off and was curled up on the sofa with another large Winter Twinkle. Her black jersey dress was riding up over her thighs, and she absent mindedly pulled it down whilst checking over Sophie’s lists.

  “Well, you haven’t got very far, have you?” Susi laughed, pointing at the list which read booze and nibbles.

  “Oh Susi, I’ve been feeling so awful and I miss Bella like crazy and–”

  “Of course you do, darling. I can’t believe that bloody Archie and Big Bertha have stolen her for the holidays, but she’ll be here for Christmas Day, won’t she? And you’ve got the party to look forward to and then you can have a really great cosy family day. Bella can romp around opening her presents and stuffing her face with turkey and then throw up over Aunt Dot, and your Mum and Dad can fall asleep watching The Great Escape and then it’s pretty much all over!” Sophie giggled. She loved her friend’s ability to minimise her problems. And she was right of course. Bella would be back soon, her family would be here for Christmas day and things would just get back to normal. The New Year would bring all sorts of things. A new job and more money, Bella happy and settled in the great little school just down the road and maybe, just maybe Archie back home where he belonged. She kept that thought to herself though.

  Susi had been keen on Archie at first. They had all been at university together and Archie had been wild in his youth, carousing and pulling women, yet still managing to a get a good degree, whilst Sophie had struggled, staying up late into the night, swotting away over endless mugs of coffee. Archie had swept Sophie off her feet, and Sophie pinched herself over and over again to make sure that it was her – not some glamorous tousle haired beauty that Archie seemed so happy with. Archie had taken her to Paris on the train and they had stayed in flea pit of a hotel in a very dodgy area but he had chosen some glorious wine, shucked her first oyster for her, and generally introduced her to all the good things in life. They went to Padstow in Cornwall and went on a cookery course, boning fish and making saffron sauces and Sophie had never been so happy. Whilst other students drank Nescafe and dunked digestives, Archie had an espresso machine and Amaretti biscuits. When she confided in Susi that she was head over heels in love with him, Susi had sniffed her disapproval. It seemed odd, Sophie had thought, wondering perhaps whether she harboured feelings for him herself, but had pushed the thought away, too happy to dwell on it for more than a moment.

  At the wedding Susi had been subdued with a frozen smile plastered on her face. She had been a bridesmaid, of course, but her heart wasn’t in it, Sophie knew. The tiny church in Devon had been packed to the rafters, and Sophie had been the happiest she had ever been walking down the aisle with her dad. The ivory silk of her wedding dress (which had cost a fortune) had swished and swirled around her legs, and wafts of the cream roses that she was carrying had engulfed her. She forever associated that perfume with that happy day. Her mum had sat in the front row in a lavender dress and matching broad brimmed hat, wiping happy tears from her face with a lace edged handkerchief, and Archie had turned at their arrival, looking solemn and nervous for once. He had given a cracking great grin, his blue eyes twinkling as she approached the top of the aisle.

  “Love you... You look gorgeous,” he had whispered as she stood beside him. When Sophie had turned to give Susi the bouquet of roses, she had been shocked to see Susi’s face. It had been, for a fleeting second, a mask of despair, which went back to a smile as she took the sweet scented bouquet from her hands. Sophie had never asked Susi about that, but had instead shoved the image in the back of her mind.

  “So, come on, show me what you’ve bought for Bella,” Susi said interrupting Sophie’s thoughts as she reached out for her glass. “I’d better know as I don’t want to get her anything that you’ve already bought...though I did see this divine handbag when I walked past Topshop yesterday – are you sure she’s too young for a sparkly evening bag? It would be perfect for any evening occasion, like, you know, ermm, a school disco or play or–”

  “She’s four! She doesn’t go to discos!” Sophie giggled, banishing the thought of her beloved Bella at sixteen being chased round the dance floor by spotty boys, reaching for her glass too.

  Chapter Three

  Sophie woke the next morning with a monumental headache and dry mouth. A proper hangover. God, I haven’t had one of those for years, they’re horrible, she thought. Susi had been right after all, those drinks were lethal. Sophie smiled though as she remembered Susi belting out numbers from The Rocky Horror Show last night and doing The Timewarp around the living room. She could hear Susi on her phone in the kitchen and hoped that she’d made some coffee for both of them. Susi had spent the night in Bella’s room, surrounded by hundreds of stuffed toys and pink knick knacks that only five year old girls could love. The flat was freezing, and when Sophie looked out of the bedroom window she could see pale sunlight glinting off the remnants of an overnight frost. A robin was perched on the bare bough of an apple tree that belonged to her next door neighbour, but was sagging over the side of the fence into Sophie’s tiny urban garden. Sophie made a mental note to replenish the bird food in the garden, poor little things must be frozen in this weather.

  At the front of the flat, a man was scraping his car windscreen with a credit card to rid the delicate lacing of frost that still covered the glass. She hoped that Archie and Bertha were making sure that Bella was wrapped up warm when she went out. Oh, of course they would. Archie was her father for god’s sake. She might just call them this morning to check all was OK, though she dreaded making those calls. Bertha always answered the phone and managed to sound both surprised and faintly put out when she discovered that it was Sophie. I am still his wife, Sophie fumed inwardly, but she was careful never to show her true feelings to Bertha. She was afraid that Bertha would take any displeasure out on Bella, and that was the last thing she wanted.

  “Coffee?” Susi called from the kitchen, whilst dipping bits of naan bread into a congealed container of dark red Prawn Xacuti. Sophie looked away, feeling a little nauseous.

  “I really don’t know how you can,” she gestured towards the curry. “Yes, just coffee for me please, doesn’t your head hurt? Mine does. I’m not used to drinking any more, really I feel like-”

  “Ah, but have you noticed anything?” Susi asked her.

  “Um, no...what?” Sophie stared at her friend and glanced around her kitchen, thinking for one wild moment that Susi had redecorated in the middle of the night or something equally daft. But no, all was in its usual place. The cheerful teal coloured tiles gleamed behind the sink and cooker. Bella’s pictures were still plastered over the walls. The flowered plates still stood on the dresser. “No, what?” Sophie repeated.

  “You’re not sniffing or sneezing! I told you it would cure it,” Susi said smugly, handing her a mug of coffee.

  Sophie sniffed experimentally and then smiled, “Yes, you’re right clever clogs, but I wasn’t expecting it to be replaced with a corker of a hangover!”

  Susi laughed and grabbed her bag, “You can’t have everything! I am so late...gotta go, love you babes! Don’t forget what we said last night about Laurie. Just do it, OK?”

  Do what? Sophie thought as she watched her friend run down the hallway and slam the front door behind her. Do what about Laurie? Invite him to the party? She was sure she already had. She picked up the glasses and plates from next door and shuddered slightly at the curry leftovers. She picked up the stale peshwari naan and crumbled it into her hands for the birds outside. They’d love that, full of coconut and su
ltanas. The icy air hit her face as she pulled open the back door and she hurried back inside. A hot shower, a couple of painkillers and she’d be ready to work her shift at the deil and then tackle those damn lists.

  Sophie pushed open the door to Pastons and breathed in the most gorgeous aroma – a mixture of cheese, spicy ham, coffee, and bread. It was a tiny shop with a large glass counter at one end behind which Maria, clad in a pristine white apron with her dark hair in a topknot and glasses perched on the end of her nose, ruled her tiny kingdom. There was already a good crowd of pre-Christmas shoppers queuing at the counter, stocking up on everything from olives to quince jam. Sophie slipped behind the counter and quickly shoved her warm winter coat and scarf in the store room and tied her apron tightly around her waist. She’d already put her hair in a pony tail before she left home and was serving a woman who couldn’t make up her mind between some brie and some camembert.

  “Both are nice,” Sophie said to the woman who was clutching a shopping list to her chest. Yet more lists. Sophie smiled to herself knowing that she wasn’t the only one with those bits of paper littering her handbag and dominating her thoughts. She weighed and priced the two cheeses for the woman and rang the money through the till.

  Sophie glanced around the shop noting that Maria had put up even more Christmas lights and tinsel since her day off. Pyramids of gaily coloured cardboard boxes containing Panattone were stacked in the small bow window along with boxes of Italian biscuits, jars of exotic marmalades and bottled fruits, mustards and chutneys, tins of oily yellow finned tuna, jars of capers, tiny gold lidded jars of caviar and packs of chestnuts. They all jostled for space. The fresh produce counter that she was standing behind was dominated by the most enormous wheel of Gruyere cheese around which the smaller cheeses orbited in a satellite of mouth-watering smells. Deep containers of olives were glinting with different sorts of flavours, some with anchovies, some with peppers, some with feta, some with chilli. A tray of caramelised artichoke hearts rubbed shoulders with tubs of deep purple and grey aubergine paste, which in turn stood next to even more containers of different spiced hummus. The bottles of virgin olive oil stood in serried ranks, next to the different sorts of vinegar on the shelves.

  Sophie loved the shop, loved working there and loved Maria – that small bundle of energy that poured her heart and soul into her business, but the money just wasn’t enough. Even though Maria practically gave her the same amount on food as she did in wages every week, it just barely covered what Sophie spent. It did mean, however, that Bella had to acquire a very sophisticated palate for a four year old, snacking on olives and roasted red peppers, and seemingly addicted to guacamole. Archie was meant to give her a set amount of money every month for Bella, but the reality was somewhat different and Sophie had to pluck up the courage at the end of every month to ask Archie for some cash. Sophie couldn’t believe that he didn’t notice when Bella needed new winter shoes, or her coat was too small, or that their daughter’s clothes came mainly from second hand shops now. She had wanted to scream at him that she was spending it all on gin and bingo websites, but bit her tongue and had taken the money, trying to calculate how much was there without actually counting it in front of him.

  She remembered when she was in the last trimester of her pregnancy and he had come home with an antique crib. Sophie had screamed in delight at the gorgeous swirls of carved wood that had decorated it, and then screamed again in horror when he’d told her how much it had cost.

  “Nothing’s too much for our little angel,” Archie had said, stroking her swollen belly tenderly.

  Sophie gathered her thoughts together and smiled at a little boy who was hanging off his mothers arm in the queue, he was muffled up to the eyes with a red and blue woolly striped scarf and a matching pair of mittens. His eyes widened as he saw the enormous wheel of cheese behind the counter. It was eye level to him and it must have looked huge. His mother was intent on buying half the shop, and was snatching jars off shelves with a distracted air. The boy’s eyes were drawn to a box of chocolate ladybirds, the tin foil glinting in silver and red. He tugged at his mother’s sleeve, and she reached out towards the box, and handed her son one, “Please add that to the bill,” she said, reaching for a box of Marron Glacès. They were Bella’s favourites as well, but Sophie rarely could afford to buy the Italian chocolate insects. They were horrendously expensive, but Maria occasionally gave Bella a treat and would slip her one now and again. Perhaps she would buy a couple and slip them into the stocking that she was planning to give her daughter on Christmas morning. Not that it would compete in any way with the no doubt expensive, but impractical presents that Archie and Bertha would shower her with. Archie begrudged the money spent on shoes, but would happily spend a fortune on an electronic toy that Bella was too young for and didn’t want. Sophie sighed.

  The customers never seemed to stop arriving, and the till was bulging by the time Maria finally closed the door. “Aiee, aiee aiee. That was one busy day!” Maria carolled to Sophie, who was sweeping the floor. “Let’s have a coffee before we clean up. I need it!”

  Sophie made the coffee and they perched on stools behind the counter, looking out as the now not so busy high street. It was dark outside, and raining. It could even be a touch of sleet, thought Sophie; it was so cold. She dreaded going back to the cold empty flat and cupped her hands around the small white cup of hot coffee, gently blowing on it.

  “I’m so glad you’re feeling better,” Maria beamed at her. “Katy came to stand in for you yesterday, but oh dear... that girl! So pretty and so dizzy! A real blonde....”

  Sophie smiled and thought of Katy who was putting in a few shifts here whilst she waited to go back to Australia. A stunningly tall blonde girl with swimmers shoulders and perfect teeth, she was more suited to the beach life than shop life.

  Maria reluctantly got off her stool, and grabbed a mop, ready to clean the newly swept floor. Sophie went to take it from her, but Maria brandished it jokingly at her, insisting that she go home. “No, no, no, I don’t want you having a relapse. Get yourself home poppet. And take a box of Panattone with you. Hot bath and an early night are in order. Give my love to Bella when you speak to her; tell her that we miss her,” Maria said, as Sophie slowly buttoned her coat up and looped her scarf around her neck.

  “I will,” Sophie said, pulling her gloves on. She crammed a beret over her head and picked up a box of the spiced Italian fruited bread as she left the shop, waving at Maria. “See you tomorrow.”

  An icy rain was sweeping the high street and, despite the attempts of the local council who had strung coloured lights across the road, it felt desolate outside. Sophie shivered and pushed her hands further into her coat pockets. She walked past the closed shops, all of which had Christmas decorations; even the hardware shop had wound some tinsel around a set of screwdrivers and draped fairy lights over a work bench. The greengrocers was putting away the outdoor displays of tangerines and nuts that heralded Christmas, and the few pedestrians that were still out in this horrid weather were hurrying home. Heads down, arms clamped to their sides and unwieldy shopping bags, or briefcases swinging in the wind. Sophie hurried down her road knowing with certainty that a cold, dark and empty flat awaited her. She promised herself that as soon as she was inside, she’d call Bella. They’d have a long silly talk together and everything would seem better.

  She fitted the key in her door and flicked the lights on hurrying from room to room to disperse the gloom. She plonked the box of Panattone on the kitchen table and snatched the phone up to call her daughter. Even if Bertha answered – which she would – Sophie was determined to be upbeat and cheerful and not at all miserable or whiny. Bertha always made her feel like a neurotic mother, even when Bella had been stung by a wasp at some picnic that Bertha had organised in the summer, she had made her feel overly anxious when she called. On that occasion she had gritted her teeth and demanded to speak to Archie. Now. It had been a horribly worrying time, as in fact, Bella had
proved to be allergic to wasp bites, and had ended up in hospital. But there are no wasps in the winter, Sophie reminded herself as she pressed the phone to her ear, easing off her shoes with a sigh of relief.

  “Hello?” Bertha’s slightly husky voice rasped in her ear.

  “Hi Bertha, it’s me, Sophie... ermm, how are you?” Sophie kicked herself as she didn’t want to know how Bertha was at all, but politeness just came in automatically she found, especially over the phone.

  “Oh...hi Sophie.” There was a pause, in which Sophie squirmed, determined not to feel wrong footed, which she knew was a losing battle. She carried doggedly on, “Can I speak to Bella please?” She was trying for a firm but friendly tone, but worried that it was coming over as timid and mousy.

  “Yes, yes, of course!” Bertha said in an over emphatically enthusiastic way, calling to Bella to come to the phone. There was a long pause and Sophie could hear voices in the background. Or was it the TV? Eventually her daughter’s voice filled Sophie’s world.

  “Mummy! I’ve got a tutu, it’s pink and daddy says that I look like a princess and the bath went all pink too because the bubbles were! And then I got Max to try and swim but daddy says that cats don’t like to swim and then...”

  Sophie settled back in her chair and let the sound of her daughter’s voice wash over her like a warm soothing bath. Her voice was high and breathless and the words tumbled across one another. As long as I don’t let her know how fiercely I miss her, but let her know that I love her, everything will be alright, Sophie thought, wiping a tear away from her cheek.

  Chapter Four